by Ginny Dye
*****
Conversation around the Stratford dinner table was spirited and lively. The emotions ran from anger to dismay, to laughter and then back to anger.
When Carrie finished reciting the events at the asylum, she felt drained, but satisfied she had done all she could for that day.
Nancy chuckled again. “I wish I’d been there to see Dr. Tillerson’s face when you pulled out those letters.”
“It was a bold move,” Wally agreed, “but it makes it even more imperative that we secure her release quickly.”
Carrie frowned. “There is nothing that could possibly make her situation more urgent than it is at this moment. I did the best I could for her, but she is quite weak. She put on a brave front for me, but Alice has lost far too much weight. Disease is quite common in asylums. She will not have the strength to fight something off if she gets sick. The food is horrible, so I’m afraid she will only grow more vulnerable.”
“At least she will be able to sleep now,” Nancy said soothingly. She reached out to lay her hand on Carrie’s. “You did a wonderful thing today, my dear. Your quick thinking has given her the best chance possible.”
Carrie wished that made her feel better, but anxiety still churned in the pit of her stomach. She turned back to Wally. “Is the information I provided about Sherman Archer helpful?”
“It is, indeed,” Wally assured her. “We had already discovered he worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad, but knowing he is high in management will make it easier to apply pressure on him. I have a good friend who is a vice president there. I will visit his office tomorrow. I feel certain he will help rectify this situation.”
“And you will use Matthew’s reputation as a reporter?” Carrie pressed. She was sure this would be crucial to forcing Sherman to take action quickly.
“I will,” Wally promised.
“And what will you do now?” Nancy asked Carrie.
“Anthony and I must return to Philadelphia. We’re taking the first boat to Blackwell’s Island tomorrow morning to deliver clothes to Alice, and then we will catch the early afternoon train. We won’t arrive in Philadelphia until late tomorrow night, but I believe I need to be there.”
“I can take the clothes to the asylum,” Nancy offered. “Michael will accompany me.”
“I’ll be happy to go with her,” Michael confirmed.
“I know,” Carrie replied. “I’m grateful for the offer, but Alice needs to see me one more time. I don’t know if I will be able to talk with her, but I’m going to include a letter tucked in one of her pockets to assure her everything possible is being done. Right now, hope is the only thing she has to hold onto.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring many clothes…”
Nancy smiled. “Since Alice and I are the same size, I suspect mine will be a better fit, anyway. I’ll gather some together this evening.”
“They will be loose,” Carrie said grimly. “She is nothing but skin and bones right now, but at least she’ll be warmer.”
*****
Carrie stepped onto the train at the station, convinced she had done her best. Alice was now in possession of warm clothes, she had slept through the night thanks to her private room, and the light in her eyes had returned. Her face was still swollen, but the arnica cream had done its job to reduce the swelling greatly. The bruising would turn colors, but at least both eyes were open to more than a slit. She had been able to tell Alice of the plans being made, promising she would return after Janie gave birth.
She had to believe Alice would be out by the time she returned, but she had been careful not to make promises. Wally had warned her that people like Sherman Archer, controlled by their overinflated ego and selfishness, would resist anything that threatened them, refusing to believe they would not conquer in the end. He assured her the pressure he would bring to bear would convince Sherman to release Alice and give her a divorce, but he refused to put a timetable on it. It would be unkind to get Alice’s hopes up with a promise that might not be fulfilled.
Carrie had left Alice with hope, careful not to deliver empty promises.
Chapter Eighteen
Carrie slept for long stretches of their journey to Philadelphia, but she could feel the tension growing in her the closer they came.
“What’s wrong?” Anthony asked.
Carrie shook her head. “Probably nothing,” she replied, even though she didn’t fully believe it. She had learned to trust her instincts. “I’m afraid it’s Janie.”
Anthony nodded. “I want to assure you everything will be fine, but like Wally, I prefer not to make empty promises.” He reached for her hand. “We’ll be there soon.”
Carrie gazed out the window at the darkness as they sped through the night. “The train will be late arriving in Philadelphia. Will there still be carriages?”
“I’ll find one,” Anthony assured her. “The carriage drivers will know a late train is coming in. There will be someone eager to make the fare, even on a bitterly cold night when most other drivers have gone home.”
Carrie prayed he was correct. She forced herself to breathe slowly, knowing worry would do no good. She was getting to Janie as quickly as she could. They had both decided it was the right thing for her to go to New York to visit Alice. Now she could only hope Janie, and her unborn child, would not pay the price for it.
“You told me Janie has an excellent midwife,” Anthony reminded her.
“I did,” Carrie agreed. “And she does. Martha Sullinger came well recommended. She has met with Janie several times.” The vision of the older woman’s experienced, calm face gave her a moment of comfort before the worry pressed back in.
“And we sent Matthew a telegram when we left New York. He’ll be expecting us.”
Carrie nodded again, wondering what difference that would make to Janie if she were in trouble with her labor, but she decided not to point it out. She knew Anthony was saying anything he could think of to relax her. She appreciated the effort.
*****
It was almost midnight, and snow had begun to fall gently, when Carrie and Anthony stepped outside from the station. Anthony craned his neck, but there were no carriages in sight. Evidently, all the drivers had decided late arriving passengers would have to sleep in the station until the next morning. Whatever money they could make from fares was not as appealing as their warm beds. She was disappointed, but she couldn’t blame them.
Carrie gripped her satchel tightly and lifted her head. “We’ll walk.”
Anthony opened his mouth to protest, but closed it and merely nodded. “We’ll walk.”
They had gotten about a block away from the station when the thud of horse hooves, and the clatter of carriage wheels sounded in the night.
“Carrie!”
Carrie jerked her head around with relief as she narrowed her eyes to see through the snowflakes that had begun to fall faster and harder. “Harold?”
“Yes,” Harold called back. “Matthew sent me with the carriage. I was here two hours ago, but left to get something to eat. The train arrived sooner than they had told me. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”
Carrie climbed into the carriage, followed by Anthony. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Harold peered at her, his blue eyes an exact replica of his twin brother’s. “How do you know something is wrong?”
“Just answer her question,” Anthony advised. “She has been worried for the last five hours.”
Harold nodded. “I arrived this afternoon because I wanted to be here when my niece or nephew arrived. Janie went into labor early this evening.”
“What time?” Carrie questioned impatiently, and then took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Do you know what time she went into labor?” she asked again, calmly.
“About six o’clock.”
“It’s not unusual for labor to take far more than six hours,” Carrie replied. “What seems to be wrong?”
Harold shook his head. �
�We don’t know for sure. Janie keeps asking for you, and she keeps saying something is wrong.”
Carrie frowned. A woman knew her own body better than anyone else. If Janie thought there was a problem, then there probably was. “Is she in pain?”
“Well, the contractions cause her pain,” Harold said uneasily. “But, all she keeps saying is that something is wrong.”
Carrie managed a smile. She knew it was hard for men to talk about the birthing process in the best of circumstances. “Is Martha with her?”
“Yes,” Harold assured her. “Matthew sent for her as soon as labor started.”
“Good,” Carrie said, wondering what Janie was feeling. She wouldn’t know until she got there, but it didn’t keep her from dreaming up multiple scenarios. She pushed away any possibilities that ended badly. There had been enough death. “Are my medical supplies at the house?”
“Yes,” Harold said again. “Janie insisted they be there. Jeremy carried them up and then went back to the house to be with the twins so Marietta could be with Janie.”
Carrie hesitated to ask the next question, but she must know if they needed to stop before they reached Matthew and Janie’s house. “Were my surgical instruments brought up, as well?” She had wondered what had prompted her to bring them from Richmond, but she had learned not to question her feelings.
Harold swallowed hard. “They’re at the house,” he confirmed. “Why? Do you think you’ll need them?” His eyes took on a haunted look.
Carrie knew he was thinking of the death of his wife and children. “I hope not,” she said firmly, “but it’s best to be prepared.” She knew she didn’t have to ask about hot water. Martha would have made sure there was a steady supply delivered to the room, so it would be there when it was needed.
She peered into the snow, wishing the carriage could move faster, but they were going as fast as it was safe to travel on the snow-covered cobblestones.
*****
Janie stared at her bedroom door, willing Carrie to appear. Matthew had assured her Carrie would be there soon. Her train had been delayed, but she was on the way. She gasped as another contraction hit. Matthew, who had refused to leave her side until absolutely necessary, squeezed her hand tightly until the pain eased again.
Janie looked to Martha. She trusted her midwife with what everyone had hoped would be a normal birth, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was very wrong. “Can you see anything yet?”
Martha glanced at Matthew sternly, and then brought her eyes back to Janie. “I really must insist…”
Janie shook her head. “I realize it is quite out of the norm for a husband to be present during birth, and I agree he should leave when the moment is close, but he is not leaving now, Martha.” She raised a brow. “This is not a surprise to you. I told you in advance how I wanted this birth to happen.”
Martha gazed back at her. “I didn’t think you really meant it,” she muttered. She smiled reluctantly. “You women doctors are all a little strange, aren’t you?”
“We have to be if we want to fight the entire medical establishment,” Janie replied. She tried to sound cheerful, but Matthew’s worried look told her she had failed. She gripped his hand tightly, terrified to have him out of her sight. “Matthew stays.”
Martha shrugged. “Matthew stays.”
Janie turned toward the door when she heard it open. Relief flooded her until she saw it was Marietta with another pan of hot water to replace the ones that had cooled. She bit back her disappointment. “Aren’t you getting tired of carrying all those pans?”
Marietta smiled, watching her closely as she walked in. “It’s easier than what you’re doing,” she murmured sympathetically.
Janie snorted. “Not all of us can have twins in less than two hours,” she declared.
Marietta lifted her shoulders. “I’ll agree I was lucky. The pain was intense, but it was over quickly.” She walked to the bed to take Janie’s other hand. “How is it going?” she asked.
Janie took a deep breath. She was a little embarrassed to continue to be so adamant, but she and Carrie talked often about how women knew their own bodies better than anyone else. “Something is wrong,” she repeated for what seemed the hundredth time, though she knew that wasn’t true. “I don’t know what, but I can feel it.”
“Oh…” She moaned as another contraction gripped her, and then gasped with fright as a sharp pain knifed through her. Caught unprepared, she couldn’t stop the scream that ripped from her trembling lips.
Matthew jolted straight in the chair. “Janie!”
Martha, who had been standing next to the window to keep an eye out for Carrie, rushed to Janie’s side. “What is it?” she demanded.
Janie shook her head frantically. “I don’t know!” she cried. Her eyes teared as the pain tore through her abdomen again. All she could think about was how Carrie had lost Bridget. She remembered Rose describing the terrible pain Carrie had been in before she lost consciousness. Janie screamed again as pain ripped through her. “Where is Carrie!?”
*****
Carrie sighed with relief when Matthew and Janie’s home came into view through the blowing snow. She placed a hand on Harold’s shoulder. “I hate to ask you to stay out in this, but I need you to go get Florence.”
“Florence?”
“Yes. She lives at forty-three Maple Street. It’s a blue, two-story Victorian. Please tell her to come immediately.” She understood Harold’s puzzled look. “She is a friend, and also a medical student who has been doing her specialty in women’s issues and birth. I want her here in case I need assistance.”
Harold nodded, a determined look in his eyes. “I’ll get her here as quickly as I can.”
“She’s only a few minutes away,” Carrie replied. “I’m sure she’ll have to get dressed, but please tell her to hurry.” She could feel her own unexplained urgency building.
Carrie and Anthony leapt from the carriage as soon as it pulled up in front of the house. Carrie watched for a moment as Harold urged the team forward, disappearing quickly behind the curtain of snow, and then she ran lightly up the stairs. She heard Janie’s scream rip through the house as she walked in the door. Without taking time to remove her coat, she raced up the stairs.
“Where is Carrie?”
Janie’s panicked cry somehow eased Carrie’s own fears. Now that she was here, she was no longer helpless. She prayed for wisdom, opened the door, and stepped into the room.
“I’m right here,” she said calmly.
“Carrie!”
Carrie’s heart caught at the terrified agony on Janie’s face. She glanced at Martha, but could tell by the confounded look on the midwife’s face that she didn’t know what was going on. She turned back to her friend. “What are you feeling, Janie?”
“Pain!” Janie gasped. “It feels like a knife is cutting me…” She sucked in her breath. “You have to help us…me and our baby.”
“I will,” Carrie said soothingly as she peered around the room. Her medical bag was placed next to the side of the bed, but it wasn’t what she was looking for.
Matthew interpreted her look. “Your other bag is in the hallway,” he said quietly.
Janie overheard him. “What other bag?” she demanded before she doubled over in pain again.
Carrie knew being evasive would only deepen Janie’s fears. “My surgical instruments,” she replied in a steady voice. “I hope I won’t need them, but it’s better to have them and not need them, than it is to need them and not have them.”
Janie met her eyes and nodded stoically. “Do whatever you need to. Just save my baby.”
“I’ll save you both,” Carrie said emphatically, opening her medical bag before she turned to Matthew. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Matthew shook his head. “I’m not…”
“Yes,” Carrie interrupted in a no-nonsense voice. “I realize you want to stay, but it will only make things more difficult. Anthony is downstairs. I prom
ise you’ll be informed the instant I know anything.” She reached out and grabbed his arm, her heart twisting at the look of agony on Matthew’s face. “I know you’re scared. Marietta will let you know what is going on,” she repeated.
Matthew gave a brief nod, and then turned to Janie. “I love you,” he said tenderly, brushing a lock of hair back from her frightened eyes. “I’ll be downstairs praying for both of you.” He leaned over, kissed her warmly, and then left.
Carrie turned to Janie as soon as he was gone from the room. “Tell me what you’re feeling,” she said. “Besides pain.” She grimaced when Janie writhed again.
“There is something wrong!”
“I know,” Carrie said. “I need you to describe it the best you can for me.”
Janie opened her mouth, but no words came out. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell you,” she murmured, sweat beading on her forehead. She shook her head again. “It’s like… everything stopped.”
“All right,” Carrie said reassuringly. She glanced at Martha. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
Martha sprang into action, carrying over the bowl of hot water. “You just tell me what you need.”
Carrie spread out her instruments. “I want you to tell me what you know.”
“Janie started out her labor like any other woman,” Martha reported. “For the first four or five hours, everything seemed to be going fine. Her contractions were getting closer and seemed to be progressing well. Then, suddenly, they slowed down, and Janie started saying something was wrong.”
Carrie listened carefully, positioning herself at the foot of the table. “Please place two lanterns to give me adequate light,” she ordered. Marietta and Martha rushed to do her bidding. What Carrie saw made her tighten her lips.
“Carrie?” Janie pleaded. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“You are dilated, but I don’t see your baby. As much as you are dilated, there should be some evidence.” She worked as she talked. “I’m going to see if I can tell what is going on in there.” She took a deep breath to steady her hands, and then probed gently, relieved when she could feel the baby’s head. Her relief dissolved when her hand continued to slide forward, hitting a tight object just below the baby’s head. Her lips tightened again when she realized the umbilical cord was wrapped around the child’s neck.
