Mail-Order Marriages

by Jillian Hart

  What exactly did it all mean? Hemorrhage of the mother, the baby, or the placenta?

  With dexterous fingers Sophie palpated Callie’s abdomen. Praise heaven, not firm, but soft and pliable. Which meant the problem was not a placenta that had started to detach before the baby was born. A fatal catastrophe for the child—and mother—if it had.

  “Callie, honey, can you hear me?” Sophie patted her hand. She lowered her mouth to Callie’s ear. “Honey? I think the baby’s coming.”

  A loss of blood was not good, no matter what was happening.

  Sophie ran her hands over Callie’s head, gently feeling for anything unusual. Ah, there it was. A lump at the back of the occipital bone. She’d fallen and bumped her head. That might explain the unconsciousness.

  “Ahh!” Callie moaned, making Sophie jump with surprise.

  Sophie placed her hand on Callie’s stomach. A tight contraction followed. Callie was moaning because she was in heavy labor. But the moaning indicated she wasn’t totally unconscious. Only a mild concussion, perhaps. More blood gushed out, and Sophie grabbed a towel off the nightstand and soaked it up.

  She had vital decisions to make. Leave Callie for a few minutes as she ran for help to the livery stables? Or simply run to the door and scream her lungs off?

  The truth was, Sophie couldn’t leave a woman and baby in mortal jeopardy. She couldn’t take her eyes off Callie for a moment. If the umbilical cord were suddenly to appear between Callie’s legs, who would be here to ease the pressure off it? To ensure the safest delivery possible of the healthiest baby possible? Even if that baby was premature, even if that baby might be too small to survive. Seconds mattered. Besides, what could Edward or John or any of the men nearby do, in practical terms, to help?

  Nothing that Sophie couldn’t do on her own.

  She wasn’t physically strong enough to lift Callie off the floor to set her on the bed, so this position would have to do. It was safer for Callie anyway, not to disturb her physically or cause more stress.

  However, the one thing Sophie was unprepared to do, wanted to avoid at all cost, was to deliver this baby by cesarean section. She’d assisted with two while in Oregon. One woman had survived, one had not. Sophie had the instruments with her. But how would she accomplish that alone?

  Please God, don’t make Callie need one.

  Sophie jumped up to the bed, reached for a pillow and blanket, brought it down to Callie’s level. She washed her hands in the basin, dipped a washcloth and applied it to the young woman’s tender face.

  “Callie, honey, wake up. Please wake up.” Sophie gently patted her face.

  Where in the world was Edward?

  Callie sputtered.

  Another groan. Another contraction. And another.

  “Callie,” Sophie nearly shouted. “Callie, the baby’s coming.”

  More sputtering. Another contraction. And dear Mary in heaven, more fresh blood.

  Chapter Nine

  John’s thoughts flickered to Sophie as he sat in his office and printed out a new schedule for stagecoach services. She was supposed to meet him at nine o’clock to pick up some banking papers, make a deposit at the bank, then go on to buy medical supplies she’d heard were coming in on this morning’s ship from Seattle. Also to check out a potential new patient.

  What could be keeping her? She was half an hour late and John had to head into the valley in twenty minutes to pick up a couple of horses.

  He rose from his desk, put the schedules in the drawer, picked up his Stetson and headed out the stable doors. He nodded to one of the stable hands, a young cowhand from Nebraska. “If my wife comes by, tell her I’ll be back by ten.”

  The cowhand looked up from filling the water troughs. “Sure thing, boss.”

  John hustled out of the stables into the blast of sunshine. He squinted as he looked to his two-story house. It sat undisturbed beneath a ring of trees.

  Right next door, though, he spotted Edward coming out of his barn with a pail full of milk.

  “Hold on,” John shouted. “Have you seen Sophie?” He rushed toward Edward’s front door.

  Edward lowered his pail to the porch and shook his head. He smiled with pride. “I was down at the docks buying a brand-new cradle for the baby, along with some other things. They’ll arrive this afternoon. Callie’s gonna love ’em.”

  “You left her alone?”

  “Just for an hour. She was sleeping.”

  “Did you see Sophie at the docks?”

  Edward shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Here, let me get the door for you.”

  John leaped up on the porch and opened the door to allow Edward to pass inside.

  “Much obliged.”

  “See you later.” John, standing on the porch, was about to turn away when they heard a cat’s meow coming from inside. “You get a new kitten for the baby, too?”

  Edward turned pale. “No.” With a panicked expression, he stumbled through the door. “Callie?”

  “In here,” Sophie hollered unexpectedly. “Help!”

  Edward should’ve put down his pail, but the poor man was so distraught he tripped over the rug, the pail went flying and milk sloshed over the floor. “Callie!”

  Another soft wail cut through the air, and John realized with a bolt to his heart that it wasn’t a kitten’s whimpering, but a baby’s.

  Edward ran. John jumped over the whirlpool of milk to follow.

  They rushed into the bedroom.

  There on the floor, Callie was lying with a pillow tucked under her head. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead. Her face was red and she was panting. She’d just delivered a baby. She looked up at Edward, then over at the tiny face and body that Sophie, kneeling beside her, was toweling off. The newborn little girl couldn’t have weighed more than four and a half pounds, but she was thrashing her limbs and complaining with a whimper as Sophie rubbed the towel over her wet body.

  “We have to keep her dry and warm.” Sophie, her temples also moist with perspiration, was totally focused on the newborn. “Congratulations.” She smiled briefly at the new parents, then frowned gently with concern. “It’s a girl. She looks to be about a month early, like we calculated.”

  “Will she make it?” Edward asked.

  “I’m not sure. Her lungs are working, but she’s weak. Appears to be perfectly formed. That’s very good news.”

  Edward crumbled to his knees beside his wife. “Callie. Forgive me. Are you all right?”

  She wiped her drenched hair off her forehead. “I think so.”

  Sophie interjected. “You may have a concussion, Callie, from the fall.”

  “What happened?” Edward asked his wife.

  “Felt a contraction and tried to get up. Must’ve fallen.”

  “Sophie was right all along. I should’ve listened.”

  “Shh,” Callie said to him. “Help her with the baby. Please just help her.”

  “I wish she’d cry more,” Sophie whispered to John as he got down on the floor next to her. She removed a bulb syringe from her bag and suctioned mucous from the baby’s mouth. “I wish she’d scream at the top of her lungs.”

  Edward’s voice shook with fear as he looked at the stained blankets. “Why was Callie bleeding so much?”

  Sophie shrugged gently at the couple. “We might never know why. She’s stopped, though. The placenta’s out and the extra bleeding has stopped.”

  John grappled with all he was observing. Sophie, bless her heart, had been here alone to handle the trauma.

  He wouldn’t have known what to do. He would have been scared to his boots.

  Sophie had shown strength and intelligence to help Callie deliver the baby. But there’d been a lot of bleeding beforehand, judging by the saturated towels, and it seemed to him the moment was still rife with impending doom.

  Half an hour passed. Sophie ensured Callie was resting comfortably in bed and took the baby to the warmth of the kitchen. Concern for the newborn had So
phie’s pulse throbbing in her ears, and her heart still bursting at full speed, but she barely noticed her own reactions as she tried to remain outwardly calm.

  She spoke to Edward as John mopped the spilled milk from the hallway into a wooden bucket, listening to her words from the open door between them.

  “The baby’s not as vigorous as I’d like to see.”

  Edward rubbed his jaw. “What does that mean?”

  “Here, won’t you hold her?”

  He waved his hands. Such a tall young man, so young himself he likely couldn’t grow a full beard yet. “I’ll break her.”

  “What I meant was the baby’s too quiet. She needs to scream and empty out her lungs of all this mucous. Needs to work up a big appetite. If she were hungrier, maybe she would have fed when Callie brought her to the bosom.” The baby seemed to have a sucking reflex, but not the strength to pull out any milk.

  Edward studied his daughter. “She can’t survive without eating.”

  Exactly. “We need goat’s milk.”

  “I can get some.” Edward turned toward the door, but was interrupted by John.

  “You stay here with Callie. I can be back with goat’s milk in thirty minutes.”

  “Yes, please,” Sophie called to her husband at the door. “And please send word to Victoria that I need her here!”

  John was as good as his word. While Callie slept in the other room, checked every fifteen minutes by Sophie to ensure she wasn’t hemorrhaging, Edward sat on the rocker watching her. Sophie stoked the stove with fresh wood. The baby lay safely bundled into the crux of an armchair when John returned with a large jar of warm milk.

  “The lady two doors down keeps goats.” John hooked his Stetson on a peg in the kitchen. “She’ll be happy to supply you with all you need.”

  Sophie took out an eyedropper and fed the baby in short squirts. Nestled in Sophie’s arms, she was the most incredible beauty. Faint brown eyelashes, pink face, cheeks as supple and warm as a little chipmunk’s.

  John sat down on a chair opposite them. “Sophie? How are you doing? That was quite a scare you must’ve had.”

  “Not nearly as bad as the one Callie must’ve had. Or Edward when he came in and saw his wife.”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door. The knob turned and Victoria peeked around the pine slab. “Anyone home?”

  With relief, Sophie shared the next hour with her dear friend, recounting the steps of delivery and explaining every detail to her colleague. John sat quietly in the corner, listening and watching the baby’s face as she slept.

  “You did everything you could have,” Victoria told Sophie. “It’s up to the baby to pick up enough energy to eat.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Victoria’s assurances were a comfort that Sophie had done all she could have in the circumstances, but unfortunately only confirmed that they had to wait it out and see if and how the baby pulled through.

  Sophie sat in vigil for three days and nights, never leaving the Thornton home. She took turns with Edward checking on Callie, keeping the fire warm, heating the goat’s milk during the night and feeding the baby every two hours. Even though Edward preferred to do it only if Sophie held the newborn.

  “Come home, Sophie,” John whispered the first night. “We can get some other women to sit with the baby at night. You can’t do it around the clock.”

  “I’ve got to be here.”

  “You can’t do much if you’re exhausted.”

  “I’m responsible, don’t you understand?” Sophie snapped at him more quickly than she’d intended. Perhaps he saw that in the way he looked at her.

  “Mother Nature will run its course, darling. It’s not something you can be responsible for.”

  Ouch. Such a harsh blow.

  Couldn’t he see?

  Didn’t he see this was what her father had warned her about? That she wouldn’t be able to handle this. The toughness of practicing on her own without the guidance of doctors nearby. That she wouldn’t be able to support these two new parents, this tiny babe who needed help to survive.

  That Sophie would never be enough, just the way she was, no matter how hard she tried.

  She wouldn’t budge to go home.

  After the first two nights John stopped asking and let his wife be.

  Sophie let her thoughts run freely, especially when she was awake and alone in the kitchen at night.

  Why had she come to Alaska? Whom had she helped? What had she accomplished?

  Her feelings of misery multiplied. The babe was losing weight—albeit most full-term babies lost a few ounces in the first few days, too, till their systems adjusted, but in this case, the newborn didn’t have enough in reserve. Sophie was losing the baby as well as any intimate connection with her new husband.

  Somewhere into the middle of the fourth night, Sophie fed the baby with the eyedropper, then fell asleep on the armchair. The new cradle had been delivered and the baby was sleeping soundly beside her.

  And that’s when it all came tumbling down for Sophie. She was pushing John away.

  If this tiny babe were lost, if the Lord did take her, would that make Sophie any less of a midwife?

  It made her sick to think of it.

  But would it prove her father right?

  Sophie bolted out of her chair. She ensured the babe was warm and safe, signaled to Edward in the bedroom that she was leaving for a few minutes, then grabbed her shawl and raced out to find her husband in the purple twilight in the land of the midnight sun.

  Chapter Ten

  John couldn’t sleep. He checked on the animals in the livery stables, then stepped outside to the corral and leaned against the railing, thinking of how far he’d come with Sophie, only to see it slipping away night by night. How much longer could she do this, physically? Was this how she was going to handle every emergency that came her way?

  When he heard racing footsteps crackling on the pathway to his right, he whirled around in alarm.

  She was running toward him, loose blond hair flying, skirts lifted by the wind. The bluish tinge of the sun, still hanging over the ocean despite it being the middle of the night, outlined her figure.

  “Don’t tell me things turned bad.”

  “No,” she panted, reaching his side. “The baby’s fine. Callie’s sleeping. Edward’s keeping an eye on them both.”

  John recovered his equilibrium and glanced down into her face. He lifted his hand and stroked the softness of her jawline. “I miss you.”

  Sophie turned her lips to his hand and kissed it. He caught his breath at the unexpected gesture.

  “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Sophie?”

  She nodded, eyes riveted to his, mouth parting with a tremor of sentiment.

  “When you first stepped off that ship, I have to tell you I was disappointed.”

  She took a step back, shoulders taut in the shadows, as though she was unsure of his meaning.

  He hastened to explain. “Disappointed when you told me you weren’t Paulette.”

  Her shoulders fell in relief.

  “Of course I tried to hide it. Then when you told me you were her replacement, I was angry at being put in that position. Angry that it wasn’t going to be as simple as I thought, selecting a wife.”

  “I thought you were upset with me, personally.”

  “I was upset with myself. Thinking I could pick and choose from different women as I pleased, and being ashamed at what I was putting you through. Took me a while to figure that out.”

  He leaned across the top of the railing. The sleeves of his white shirt took on the bluish light of the sun. “You know what I’d like most of all? You’ve been shortchanged in marrying me so quickly. I’d like to have a true courtship with you. Take you out for dinner. Dancing. Buy you things.”

  Sophie, as gentle as the wind that ruffled through his hair, hiked herself up on the rung beside him. Her long skirts and petticoat shuffled around her high-hee
led brown boots. “That would be nice.”

  She looked over to the mountains, the icy caps and the treetops thrashing in the wind. Night birds called in the distance. “Your time with me hasn’t been easy.”

  He leaned over and clasped her warm hand in his, ignited by the contact, as if his heart was skipping over the ocean. “I imagine we’ll have times that are easier than others. I want to help you in times like these, Sophie. What can I do?”

  “I thought you were bothered by the days and nights I’ve been working.”

  He drew closer. “You’ve been amazing in there, Sophie, the way you’ve handled Callie and the baby.”

  “They’re afraid to name her.” Sophie’s voice caught on the words. “In case they lose her. I’ve been trying to convince them otherwise, but Edward says he’s not going to pick out a name until Callie’s fully recovered.”

  John took her face in his hands. “Whatever it is that your father told you, he was wrong, Sophie. You were meant to be a midwife.”

  Her dark lashes fluttered with the compliment. The tender lines of her cheeks and lips moved upward in surprised fascination at him.

  “Is it so hard to understand how I feel about you?” he asked.

  She let out a sob, half laughter, half wrought with other deeper emotions. It had been a long four days for Sophie without proper sleep and rest, and perhaps it was catching up to her.

  His hands moved downward and cupped her supple shoulders. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  “Love?”

  “Yes. Do you believe it?”

  Her eyes glistened. She stood speechless.

  “I didn’t till I met you,” he murmured. “Sophie.” He took her in his arms and kissed her.

  Standing in the glimmering light, they wove their bodies together, thigh to thigh and chest to chest. Her breasts pressed against him, and he was lost to the world. His arms traveled downward along her spine. He loved the feel of her backside in his palms.

  She responded by sliding her arms up his rib cage, farther to his shoulders, and fingering the tendrils of hair at the back of his neck. He shuddered at her touch, marveling at her ability to instantly arouse him.