The Midwife's Legacy

by Jane Kirkpatrick

  “Mr. Cafferty, how nice to see you. Lanie and the baby are well?”

  “Quite. And it’s Noah.”

  At the reminder, she felt a blush but nodded.

  “Forgive the intrusion at such an early hour. I thought you might need this.” He offered her mother’s bag of birthing items. She didn’t know she’d forgotten it.

  “Thank you, yes!” She held out her hand for the bag, not realizing she still held her muffin. Her face heated further. A smile teased the corner of his lips, causing her to smile at the amusing situation as well. The warmth in his eyes eased any lingering discomfort. Again she found it odd how connected she felt to this man on such short acquaintance.

  “Mother and I were just having breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

  “I wouldn’t wish to intrude—”

  “Oh, you’re not intruding!” At her effusive reassurance and his clear surprise, she added quickly, “Mother will want to meet you. She’s curious about Lanie, and there’s plenty to eat. Mother doesn’t often bake, but when she does she gives her utmost since she loves it so well.” She took the bag and held the door open wider for him to enter.

  He looked puzzled by her garbled explanation. Not wishing to demolish the English language further, she didn’t add that in the mode of fitting in with society’s expectations for their class, her parents had hired a maid who doubled as a cook.

  “If you’re sure it’s no inconvenience …” He lifted his brows, and she nodded. “Then I accept.”

  He took off his hat as he entered and hung it on the hat tree. She smiled shyly, setting the bag on the table before leading him through to the breakfast parlor. Her mother looked up in curious surprise. Introductions were made, and Noah was invited to take breakfast with them a second time. Christiana fixed him a plate and then her own before taking her chair across the table from him.

  As they ate, Mother brought the conversation around from pleasantries to the events of the previous evening.

  “Christiana told me that you assisted in the delivery of the baby.”

  Noah looked as if he just managed not to strangle on his food. “Yes, well, that was an experience I wish never to repeat. Your daughter was amazing, though I wish I could have located a doctor.”

  “Is something wrong with Lanie or her baby?” Christiana asked in concern.

  “No. The baby did look more like a baby this morning—not so red—though the top of her head still looks a bit squashed.”

  Christiana hid a smile, recalling his wince of barely veiled horror at his first sight of an infant newly born.

  “That will change,” Christiana’s mother reassured. “She’ll look better with each day that passes.”

  Noah nodded. “I’m glad I chose the field of journalism. I never could have been a doctor.”

  “Why do you wish a doctor had been there?”

  “Christiana,” her mother warned softly under her breath.

  But Christiana couldn’t let his earlier statement go and set down her fork. “You must admit everything went well. Neither Lanie nor her baby unduly suffered.”

  “Yes, as I said, you were a wonderful stand-in.”

  His praise had the opposite effect and spoiled her satisfaction in her accomplishment.

  “Stand-in?”

  “Since the doctor couldn’t be there.”

  “Lanie chose to have a midwife. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “It’s just not natural.”

  “Not natural?” She straightened her spine in disbelieving shock and just managed to keep her tone at the same pleasant, conversational level. “Mr. Cafferty, midwives were in existence long before doctors took over. The pharaoh didn’t order the physicians to kill the newborns; he told the midwives to do so.”

  His brow lifted at her formal use of his name, but even if she wasn’t upset with him at the moment, she felt odd taking that liberty on such short acquaintance when they weren’t alone.

  “That’s ancient history. We’re now in a progressive era, and things must change.”

  “Must change?” she scoffed. “That seems a little dictatorial, doesn’t it?”

  Her mother softly cleared her throat in the manner she used to stem a rising argument. “Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinions; that’s what makes life so much more interesting, don’t you think?” She looked at Noah. “You mentioned you’re a journalist. What paper do you write for?”

  “The Portland New Age. They just started this year.”

  “And does your boss share your views on what is and what isn’t natural?” Christiana asked sweetly, though she still seethed inside.

  “Christiana!” This time her mother’s warning whisper came more forcefully.

  Noah regarded her in curious puzzlement. “As a matter of fact, he does. After all, doctors have had professional training …”

  “Midwives are also trained.”

  “… at an educational institution,” Noah continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “He doesn’t believe women should work outside the home in this day and age. In fact, I’m doing a story on one of those suffragist meetings this week.”

  “Oh?” She folded her napkin and laid it on the table. “In favor of the movement or against it?”

  He smiled, but his apparent ease didn’t fool her. “Totally unbiased, of course.”

  She leaned forward, her smile deceptively sweet. “Your own views never cloud your work?”

  “I don’t write editorials, Miss Leonard. I just report the news.”

  “As seen through your eyes, of course.”

  His smile slipped, and his eyes grew a trifle hard. “How else? After all, I’m the one writing the story.”

  “Before your arrival, I told my daughter we should visit Lanie after breakfast,” her mother put in quickly, rising to her feet and picking up her plate, half the food untouched. “Forgive me, Mr. Cafferty; I have much to accomplish today. Please feel free to finish your breakfast. Christiana, a word with you.”

  Noah took the napkin from his lap and dropped it to the table as he rose. “I should be leaving for the office. I’ve lingered far too long. Might I give you and your daughter a lift to my father’s house?”

  “We wouldn’t wish to put you out of your way.”

  “Not at all. His house is in the direction of the newspaper office.”

  “In that case, we would be most grateful. Christiana, would you please help me put these things away, dear?”

  Noah excused himself to wait outside. The moment he was out of earshot, Christiana moved with what was left of the eggs to take them to the sink, but her mother clasped her arm to stop her. Knowing her mother was upset, Christiana lowered her gaze to the serving dish she held.

  “Christiana, you must learn to curb that tongue of yours, especially with guests present.”

  “But you heard what he said. He thinks nothing of our calling!”

  “While perhaps you think too much of it?” her mother suggested softly.

  Christiana blinked and looked up into her gentle eyes. “Are you saying midwifery isn’t important?”

  “No, of course not. But are you certain it isn’t wounded pride that compels you to speak so vehemently? Mr. Cafferty shares the views of most men in our society and out of it, which is why the suffragist groups formed. He’s only speaking what he was taught. As are you. A difference of opinion is no cause for contention. The Lord’s Word says that where there is strife there is every evil work. You would do well to remember that, dear.”

  Christiana restrained a sigh and gave a brief nod. They finished their chore, collected their things, and left the house.

  Mother was right; Christiana knew it. Still, she remained silent on the drive, in part not trusting herself to speak but also having nothing to say. Once Noah pulled his team of horses in front of his father’s home, he helped her mother down from the carriage. Christiana felt half inclined to reject his aid, but not wishing to fall flat on her face, she laid her hand in hi
s warm one. Before he let go she felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers, which shocked her enough that she looked at him for the first time since they’d left her house.

  “I’ll leave you both here and wish you well,” he said, his eyes never straying from hers. “I must get to the office before my boss gives up on me.” He smiled in mild amusement.

  Christiana felt her lips curl in the slightest grin.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cafferty,” Mother said. “You’ve been most kind.”

  “It was a pleasure.” He nodded to her, then to Christiana, fingering the brim of his hat and tipping it, then climbed back into the buggy.

  “Christiana?”

  At her mother’s soft query from the front door where she waited, Christiana was discomfited to realize she still stood staring at Noah’s departing carriage.

  Noah had been unable to get Christiana out of his thoughts for days. Not that he particularly wanted to, but concentrating on the sometimes sweet, sometimes fiery young brunette did tend to interfere with his work.

  Like now.

  He licked the tip of his pencil and jotted notes on his pad as a speaker for the women’s suffragist committee stood at the podium at the front of the public hall and decried their inability to vote. He had stayed tucked in a back corner but knew he’d been spotted. A few women looked over their shoulders at him, some with curious interest while others stared in open hostility. He had not failed to notice he was the only man within eyesight and not for the first time questioned his request for the assignment. He thrived on adventure, but the idea of what must amount to at least one hundred women ganging up on one man—at the moment, the opposite gender clearly the bane of their existence—amounted to certain massacre. He imagined from the unsettled mood generated by the speaker’s words that many of these ladies would like the chance to take out their frustrations against all men, perhaps using him as a target with their reticules and parasols.

  Relieved when the speaker concluded her oration, Noah slipped out the door. Two women who’d spotted him managed to catch up and practically demanded his reason for being there. His answer that he was a journalist sparked questions of his views, which he politely sidestepped with his convenient response that he only reported the happenings and preferred to keep his personal opinions to himself.

  They weren’t pleased with his answer, and the entire walk back to the newspaper office he remembered a similar conversation he’d had with Christiana. She also had not been pleased by his responses involving a similar matter of “rights” involving women in the workplace. For that reason alone, he’d kept his distance, though he would have liked to call on her.

  At the office he doffed his coat and tossed his hat in the direction of his cluttered desk then took a seat behind it. He wasted no time in transferring notes to paper. Once he’d fashioned a rough draft, he loosened his necktie and leaned back on two legs of the chair, propping his heels on the edge of the desk. So engrossed was he in what he’d written, he didn’t realize someone had approached until a figure blocked his light.

  Ready to give the errand boy a mild reprimand, he snapped his head up—and gaped.

  He must be mistaken. Thoughts of her surely conjured the lovely mirage.

  When he realized Christiana really stood there, he brought the soles of his shoes back to the floor and his chair to its original position with lightning speed, almost falling out of it. He dropped his paper to the desk and hurriedly worked to straighten his tie as he stood to his feet. He cleared his throat in an effort to recover some stability.

  “Miss Leonard, to what do I owe this honor?”

  She blushed a shade of soft rose. “Please, it’s Christiana, remember? When we’re alone I don’t mind dispensing with formalities.”

  He glanced around the drab room of six men, the air clouded with blue smoke from his editor’s pipe. No one was currently within earshot, but they were hardly alone, and his guest was receiving her fair share of looks, much to Noah’s irritation.

  He hid his ire with a tight grin. “Christiana, then. Do you have a story you’d like reported?” He doubted that was why she was there but couldn’t figure out a reason.

  “No.” She bowed her head, ill at ease with whatever she’d come to say, and fiddled with the strings of her reticule. “I came to apologize.”

  “Apologize?”

  “With regard to our previous conversation. I shouldn’t have judged you for your beliefs.”

  Amazed by her refreshing candor, he shook his head. “I wasn’t completely without guilt in my responses. I could have been kinder.”

  “But I baited you. I was trying to influence you to approve my way of things and admit your error in judgment.” She shrugged one shoulder delicately, lifting her eyes to his. “As Mother said, there will always be differing views in all matters, neither considered truly wrong—unless of course they go against God’s Word.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” He returned her smile, deciding to suggest the idea that had been brewing in his head since the night he’d met her. He leaned back and sat with one hip on the edge of the desk, casually crossing his arms over his middle. “Have you been to the Lewis and Clark Centennial Exposition yet?”

  “The Exposition?” She stared at him in clear confusion.

  “The night we met you mentioned your father had a part in it.”

  “Yes, he helped arrange one of the displays for the university. He’s a professor of science and dabbles with his own inventions besides.” She hesitated then seemed to realize she’d forgotten to answer. “I haven’t been yet, but I have every intention of attending before it’s over.”

  “Would you consider going with me?”

  Chapter 5

  For a moment, Christiana could only stare.

  “Why, Mr. Cafferty, are you asking if you may court me?” She responded with all the flirtatious aplomb of an experienced coquette. In reality, she was new to courtship and astonished by his invitation.

  He chuckled. “If you like, Miss Leonard, yes. May I call on you?”

  His dark eyes gently teased back, but his tone was sincere. She wondered what her parents would think about such a shocking notion—her attending social functions in the company of a man she scarcely knew—and wondered if society would frown on her for accepting or think her fast or loose. Mother liked him, a point in Christiana’s favor. But more than that, the connection she’d felt with Noah since the night Lanie gave birth never dispersed, though she had tried valiantly these two weeks not to think about him. It was the knowledge that she would like to know him better that prompted her response.

  “I’ll need to seek my parents’ permission, but I can’t see why they won’t allow it.”

  Her words came shy and uncertain. His eyes flickered in surprise as if he thought she might have refused him.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of asking you not to follow the mandates of propriety. I look forward to meeting your father.”

  She smiled, relieved that he was no wolf but ignorant of how this courting matter was carried out all the same.

  “This Saturday, then?” he asked quickly, as if rushing to pinpoint a date before she could change her mind. “We can spend the afternoon there.”

  “Yes, I should love to attend the Exposition with you this Saturday.” Suddenly feeling timid, she excused herself. “I must be going. Mother is expecting me.”

  “Of course. Until then … Christiana.”

  The softness of her name on his tongue warmed her. Still floating with the turn of events, she left his office and met her mother at the millinery shop down the street where she’d left her deliberating on two hats. She chose not to inform her of her plans until the purchase was made and they rode home. At first her mother seemed surprised and uncertain, then gently resigned, but she did not disagree.

  Her father, however, was a different story.

  “Absolutely not.” He pushed his plate of pie crumbs aside. “Who is this cheeky young whippersnapper? Never heard of hi
m.”

  “Actually,” her mother put in, “you have. Noah Cafferty is a fine, responsible young man. I told you how he helped Christiana with Lanie Cafferty, dear.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. But who does he think he is to swoop down on my little girl like some hungry vulture seeking a baby bird?”

  “A baby bird? Really, Papa!” Christiana was accustomed to her father’s overprotective attitude, but that didn’t stem her indignant frustration at being thought of as a little girl. “And he’s hardly a vulture.”

  “Christiana, would you please bring more coffee? Your father could use a refill.”

  She nodded, knowing her mother wished to speak to him privately. On her return to the dining room, before she could push the swinging door open, she heard her mother’s voice:

  “She’s no longer a child, Isaiah. We knew this day would come.”

  “She’s barely seventeen,” he spluttered.

  “The same age I was when I met you,” she countered softly. “And I’ve had no regrets.”

  A pause ensued, and Christiana leaned closer to the door to hear, feeling only a minute twinge of guilt at eavesdropping. After all, her future was the topic at hand.

  “Lanie and I have been friends for two years,” her mother continued. “She’s had nothing but nice things to say about Noah.”

  “He’s a newspaperman, isn’t he? They’re the worst kind.”

  “The worst that can be said about a journalist of his caliber is that he might be a bit too inquisitive. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t drink or engage in lewd activity. His manners are impeccable.”

  “It’s those young gents who appear to be contenders for sainthood that are the true devils in disguise!”

  Her mother gave a scoffing laugh. “What poppycock! Is it the matter of his profession that gives you concern? Or is it because he’s taken an interest in your little girl?” she asked more gently. “Meet with him. Judge for yourself what kind of man Noah is.”