The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  Elizabeth Quinn had spent the entire flight with her laptop open, working on finalizing her presentation. She still wasn’t quite through when the flight attendant announced that all portable electronic devices needed to be turned off and stowed. She sighed, saved her work and shut it down. It hadn’t been a good day. On-call the night before, she’d ended up working non-stop and was exhausted by morning. She wanted nothing more than to take a shower and go to bed, for a few hours. Unfortunately, she had promised to meet her boyfriend for brunch and having cancelled their last three dates due to work, she couldn’t do it again. So she settled for just the shower, and picked him on the way to the restaurant.

  On hindsight, she wished she had cancelled the date. Although brunch was pleasant enough, David had seemed preoccupied by something. When she finally pushed him to tell her what it was, they had argued and he broke up with her.

  During the whole ridiculous argument, David had told her he loved her.

  Twice.

  She didn’t know if she had loved him or not. She liked him and enjoyed going out with him. Perhaps it would have developed into something more with time, but that was the problem. She never had time.

  She frowned remembering his parting words.

  “I will miss you, my beautiful girl. And someday, I hope you work your way free of expectations and you allow joy to enter your life.”

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the pilot announcing that due to weather conditions and air-traffic over New York, they would be flying a holding pattern for at least thirty more minutes. That, added to the more than ninety minute delay leaving Cincinnati, meant they were arriving over two hours late.

  “Well that’s just effing brilliant,” she muttered. “Nothing has gone right today.”

  “What’s that dear?” asked the elderly lady sitting beside her.

  Elizabeth sighed. She had managed to avoid any interaction for most of the flight. The first rule of travel—if you wanted to be left alone—was to always appear engrossed in something, and never, ever, speak. Too late. The absolute last thing she needed right now was a conversation with a chatty senior citizen. “I’m sorry. I’m a little frustrated with all the delays. I still have work to do and I can’t use my laptop. I just don’t have time to sit and do nothing.”

  “No time to waste, eh? Rush, rush, rush, is it?” The older woman had a light Scottish accent.

  “Does anyone enjoy wasting time?”

  The woman chuckled. “I’ve got nothing but time, so I guess there’s no harm in wasting a bit of it now and then.”

  “Well, I never seem to have enough time.”

  “Do ye not? That is a shame. Perhaps these delays are the powers that be stepping in to slow ye down a bit.”

  It took great control for Elizabeth not to roll her eyes. “Well, I wish the powers that be would pick a slightly more opportune occasion.”

  “Tell me lass, what work is this wee delay keeping ye from?”

  “I am presenting a paper at a professional meeting on Monday. I need to finalize my slides and speaker’s notes.”

  “There’s always tomorrow.”

  “I suppose but I’d had other plans.” The truth was, she’d planned to fly in tomorrow. But a winter storm was bearing down on the northeast and she’d feared her flight would be cancelled. For once in her life, she actually had a whole day with nothing planned.

  The old woman gave her an understanding smile. “I see. Well perhaps you could tell me what ye intend to present—without yer slides or notes. I’ve always found speaking extemporaneously on a topic helps organize my thoughts.”

  Elizabeth wondered just how many presentations the old woman had ever given. “You wouldn’t find it interesting.”

  “Ye might be surprised. I have a rather wide range of interests.”

  Right. Knitting patterns? The health benefits of shuffleboard?

  The woman cocked her head, looking amused. “Now lass, ye mustn’t judge a book by its cover. I don’t know the first thing about knitting but I never miss the opportunity to learn about advances in medical science.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “I’m sorry. You’re right; I made an unfair assumption. But how did you know—”

  “—that ye’re a doctor? Lucky guess.”

  Elizabeth was more interested in the knitting comment, but she let it go.

  “So Doctor…”

  “Quinn. Elizabeth Quinn.” Elizabeth offered her hand.

  Shaking Elizabeth’s hand the woman said, “I’m Gertrude. It’s lovely to meet ye Doctor Quinn. Tell me, do ye ever get teased?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “About Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman? All the time.”

  The old woman smiled. “Then I shall refrain. So, Doctor—”

  “Please, call me Elizabeth.”

  “All right, Elizabeth, tell me what ye’re presenting tomorrow.”

  “I am discussing some new developments in pain management after caesarian section.”

  “So ye practice obstetrics. How nice. It seems more and more doctors are leaving that specialty.”

  “Sadly they are. Some doctors want more controllable hours but part of the decline can be blamed on the risk of malpractice suits. It’s disheartening.”

  “Aye, I’m sure it is.”

  “I’ll be honest, I’m considering pursuing something else myself. Obstetrics isn’t what I thought it would be.”

  “Ye don’t like bringing new lives into the world?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “When you put it like that, it is hard to say I don’t. But truthfully, sometimes it feels like I deliver one baby, then move onto the next almost before the umbilical cord is cut. I have no time to connect with patients or their families. No time to rejoice in—how did you describe it? Bringing new life into the world? That’s what I thought it would be…but it isn’t. It’s ever on to the next baby.”

  “Pardon me if I’m the one guilty now of judging a book by its cover, but ye look awfully young to be so disenchanted—ye can’t have been at it long. Are ye even out of yer residency?”

  “I have been out of residency for a year, but I am young. I have always been…bright and driven.” She smiled apologetically. “I have pushed myself my whole life. I graduated from high school and college early.” She gave a little laugh. “I was two years into medical school before I could legally buy a beer.”

  “So that makes ye twenty-seven?”

  “I just turned twenty-eight.”

  “And if ye left obstetrics what would ye do?”

  “I’m not sure. Pediatrics or family medicine maybe. Of course if I did pediatrics and didn’t care for it, it would be rather easy to switch to family medicine.”

  “Are ye a chess player, Elizabeth?”

  The sudden change in topic surprised her. “I learned how when I was young. I don’t take much time to play games. Why do ye ask?”

  “Because chess players—good chess players—always plan at least three moves ahead. Ye seem to be racing through life, always looking well beyond the next steps.”

  “I guess so. But that’s a good thing.”

  “It can be, but the thing ye don’t like about obstetrics is the constant demand to move on to the next patient. It sounds as if ye’re looking for an opportunity to stop and experience the joy around ye.”

  “I suppose I may be, but there isn’t really a way to do that and practice medicine these days.”

  “What if I could give ye a way?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There was a time when doctors, healers and midwives experienced exactly what ye say ye want. They knew their patients and spent time with them. When they brought a new babe into the world they could rejoice with the family. When a life was tragically lost, they could mourn. They experienced the full spectrum of human emotion and existence, and helped their neighbors through it.”

  “That time is long gone.”

  “Aye, perhaps it is. But what if I could show ye what it was like, just give ye a t
aste of a different time?”

  “No one can do that.”

  “Set yer disbelief aside for a moment. If ye could go back in time, for a little while, and experience life as a doctor or midwife in a different era, would ye want to?”

  “Who wouldn’t want to at least see what it was like?”

  “That’s a very good answer. So keep yer disbelief to one side a moment longer while I explain.”

  This is what I get for allowing myself to be pulled into a conversation, Elizabeth thought wryly.

  The old woman gave her a knowing look. “At least I have more to discuss than knitting patterns and as entertainment value goes, the possibility of time-travel beats looking out a dark airplane window.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “How do you do that?”

  The old woman smiled. “It’s a gift. Now, will ye suspend disbelief for a few minutes?”

  Elizabeth truly had nothing else to do. She may as well kill the time listening to Gertrude’s delusion about time-travel. It did have to be more interesting than staring out the window. “Okay.”

  “Good.” The woman smiled broadly, reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pocket watch on a long chain. “This unassuming little device is a conduit for time-travel.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at her.

  “Och, lass, ye promised to suspend disbelief.”

  “You’re right. Go on. How does it work?”

  “Very simply, ye put it ‘round yer neck, or even in yer pocket before ye go to sleep, and ye’ll wake up somewhere else.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Don’t you mean sometime else?”

  The woman chuckled. “That too.” She opened the cover to the watch.

  “It only has one hand.”

  “It only needs one hand. When it takes ye back in time, the hand will move forward one second for every day ye’re in the past.”

  “And when it reaches midnight—sixty days later—I return?”

  “Not exactly. Before ye go to sleep, ye must tell it a word. Something ye aren’t likely to say by accident. When ye’re ready to come home, as long as the hand hasn’t reached midnight yet, ye say the word, and the watch will return ye instantly. Ye don’t even have to have it on yer person. If it’s in the same time with ye, it will work from wherever it is.”

  “Well, that’s certainly handy.” Elizabeth had trouble keeping the sarcastic note out of her voice. “And if I don’t say the word before midnight?”

  “Ye stay there forever.”

  “So, I tell it my safe-word, go to sleep and wake up somewhere in the past in my jammies? Won’t that be a little hard to explain?”

  The woman chuckled again. “Aye, I suppose it would be, but that isn’t what happens. Only yer soul travels through time. It’s called soul exchange. Yer body stays here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ye heard me correctly. Yer soul travels backwards and enters the body of someone who is about to die, or at least has set an inevitable course towards their own death. Ye will do something as soon as ye arrive to change that.”

  “I’ll save that person’s life?”

  “Not precisely. Ye will enter her body and she will enter yers.”

  “So someone from God knows when will be running around the twenty-first century in my body?”

  “Nay, because while the hand on the watch advances one second for every day ye’re in the past, time in both places is not equal. Only a second will pass here. If ye come back within the sixty days, the other soul will have resided in yer body for a minute or less.”

  “So then she’ll wake up sixty days later with no memory of what I did? That doesn’t sound fun.”

  “Elizabeth, she will not wake up. Her life was essentially over the instant ye entered her body. So her body in the past will die and her soul will move onward, as it should have.”

  “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

  The woman gave her a sad smile. “I know it’s hard to accept. But the life into which yer soul will jump was over. By entering that person’s body, ye are given a chance to learn about another life and perhaps do a bit of good.”

  “But how do I explain not remembering anything about being that person—or what if I don’t speak the local language?”

  “While yer soul and memories go with ye, ye will be in her body, with her brain and memories. Ye’ll experience some of her memories immediately. Language is so ingrained, ye’ll know and understand whatever language she speaks. It will feel as if ye’re speaking English. It is possible that other memories will emerge with time.”

  “But I won’t remember everything. How do I handle that?”

  “When an excuse is needed some time-travelers claim amnesia. But sometimes, they have a few of the other person’s memories and they can pick up on enough context clues that they don’t have to. This is especially true if they don’t stay long.”

  Gertrude seemed so convinced that time-travel was real, Elizabeth was beginning to wonder about her sanity. “Do ye really believe this?”

  “Ah, Dr. Quinn, I do believe it and I am perfectly sane.”

  “Well that’s quite a story.”

  “So, while yer disbelief is still suspended—and I do hope it still is—if everything that I’ve told ye were true, would ye try it?”

  “If I continue to suppress my innate skepticism, yes. Like I said before, who wouldn’t take a glimpse of the past if it were offered?”

  “Well then, I am offering it to ye. Take the watch. Try it. If it works, the watch will find me after ye return home. If it doesn’t, ye have a pretty—if useless—bit of jewelry.”

  “It sounds intriguing.” Elizabeth allowed herself a moment to imagine the possibilities before shaking her head. “Still I’ll have to say no. But thank you.”

  “Ye have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Moreover, Elizabeth, what I am about to tell ye is profoundly true. If ye do not do this. If ye do not try, simply to prove to yerself it isn’t possible, ye will wonder about it, and what’s worse, regret it, until yer dying day.”

  Bewildered, Elizabeth simply stared at Gertrude. The old woman might be a little eccentric, but she was harmless.

  And, she was dead-on.

  Even believing that it would be absolutely impossible to trade souls with someone, Elizabeth knew she would regret not trying it. Just in case…

  “Ye know I’m right, lass.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, you are. This might be the craziest thing I have ever done, but I’ll try it.”

  At that moment, the pilot announced that they had been cleared for landing.

  Gertrude smiled and placed the watch in Elizabeth’s hand. “Perfect timing.”

  Elizabeth looked at the watch more closely. It appeared to be very old, and valuable. She frowned. “This looks like an heirloom. At least give me your address, so I can mail it to you.”

  Gertrude laughed merrily. “Oh, lass, I am a citizen of the universe. The watch will find me itself much faster than any mail carrier could.”

  “I’m sorry, Gertrude, I can’t accept this with no way to return it to you.”

  “Yer disbelief is rearing its ugly head again, Dr. Quinn, but how about this. Ye take the watch and give me yer business card. I’ll call ye tomorrow evening and ye can tell me all about yer adventure. Then if the watch hasn’t found me, we’ll sort that out too.”

  Elizabeth considered it a moment more. “Okay.” She put the watch in her pocket and pulled out a card. “You promise you’ll contact me.”

  “Aye, I promise I’ll contact ye. Now, since we have a few minutes before we get to the gate, tell me about what ye’re presenting on Monday.”

  Elizabeth smiled and gave Gertrude the high-level summary, finishing when they were about to deplane. As they walked into the terminal together, Elizabeth asked, “Where are you going? Will someone be meeting you? If you’re going into Manhattan, you’re welcome to share my cab.”

  “Oh, nay, lass. Thank ye, but
I’m not staying in New York. I have another connection to make.”

  “Are you sure you haven’t missed it? We’re so late getting in.”

  “Ye needn’t worry about me. Go on now. Ye were up all night, ye’re tired and still have a bit to do on that presentation before ye sleep. I suspect ye’ll have a fascinating tale to tell me tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “I think you’re having on over on the young doctor, but I look forward to hearing from you.”

  As Elizabeth walked towards the front of the terminal, it occurred to her she hadn’t told Gertrude she had worked all night. Elizabeth turned around to ask her how she knew that, but the old woman had disappeared into the crowd. It would have to wait until Gertrude called tomorrow.

  Elizabeth only had a carry-on so she went straight to ground transportation and got in line for a taxi. It was bitter cold and heavy snow was just beginning to whiten the ground. When she finally reached the front of the line she was chilled to the bone. Thankfully the taxi was toasty warm.

  As soon as she was in the cab, she reached for her laptop. She could have the last bit done in the time it would take to get to her hotel. But she stopped herself. The falling snow was beautiful. It occurred to her that if her plane hadn’t been delayed, she would be inside a hotel room, curtains drawn, either working or sleeping, and would have missed seeing it. What had Gertrude said? Perhaps these delays are the powers that be stepping in to slow ye down a bit.

  Elizabeth smiled. For once, she would set work aside and just enjoy the peace of a snowy evening. It had been a crazy day. Speaking of crazy—she pulled out the pocket watch and popped it open to take a closer look.

  “Are you in town for business or pleasure?”

  No, not a chatty cabby. “Business.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Healthcare.” Maybe the one word answers would encourage him to stop talking.

  “That’s a big business. Do you work for a drug company or something?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  “You ain’t no doctor. You’re nothin’ but a little girl.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Are you really a doctor?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Yes.”

  “What kind of doctor?”