by Delia Parr
When he reached the sleigh, she saw that the sisters’ trunk, as well as one apparently for Thomas, had been strapped to a platform attached to the back. Their treat basket sat on the second seat. Thomas settled her up front, layered several blankets over her lap and legs, and got in beside her.
He nodded toward Russell Clifford, who stood with his back braced against the door. “I have a feeling he’s about to feel the full wrath of the sisterhood here in Trinity.”
Her eyes widened, and she tilted her chin. “Did you say sisterhood? That’s an odd term.”
He chuckled again. “I overheard Eleanor talking to Mrs. Clark about it. After I got a glimpse inside that meetinghouse today, I got an inkling of what she meant. When I found out you weren’t inside, I suspected you might need some assistance when you arrived.”
“You are a blessing to me,” she whispered. “Truly a blessing.”
He took her hand. “Does that mean you’ve reconsidered my proposal? The congregation is assembled. I’m sure Reverend Welsh wouldn’t mind—”
“No. I mean yes. But no . . . not . . .”
He cocked his brow. She realized the stitches had been removed, leaving only a thin scar that sliced through his brow. “I’ve never known you to be indecisive. Which is it going to be? Yes. No. Or not?”
She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath before gazing into his eyes. “Yes. I’ve thought about your proposal. A great deal. There are certain . . . certain possibilities I’d like to discuss with you.”
The corners of his lips began to shape a smile.
“They’re just possibilities, mind you. I can’t marry you today because . . . because I want some time to think them through.”
His lips stretched into a small smile, but he did not interrupt or offer her any assistance as she struggled to explain herself.
“When you come home in February, I’d . . . I’d like for us to talk again.”
He caressed her cheek. “About these . . . possibilities.”
Her heart began to race. “Yes.”
“And if we can reach some sort of accord, then you’ll marry me?”
She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sweet sensations on her cheek that he was creating with just the touch of his fingertips. “Yes.”
“Yes. Yes what?”
She cocked her head. “Yes. I’ll marry you. If we reach—”
He kissed her silent. It was just a gentle kiss. Enough to let her know he would wait for her to be sure. Enough to let her feel the power of his enduring affection. Enough to reassure her that the obstacles between them were not insurmountable. And just enough to let her know his patience would be stretched thin by next month, when he returned.
When he ended the kiss, he looked at her with his gray eyes twinkling. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She felt a blush that started in her toes and traveled to the tip of her nose. “Actually, I thought that was quite . . . lovely,” she admitted, although if anyone had seen them kiss, she would have been hard-pressed to control the gossip that would follow.
He chuckled and pulled her into his embrace. “I was talking about making the decision to accept my proposal. Even if it is conditional.”
“I’m not sure I can marry a man so smug and so sure of himself,” she teased as she relaxed in his embrace. “Rather than simply basking in the glory of your triumph, maybe you could tell me about your plans to help Fern.”
The next hour passed quickly enough.
Despite the mound of blankets, the cold was sorely aggravating Martha’s ankle. To keep her mind from focusing on the pain, she tried to imagine Aunt Hilda’s great joy today, as well as Victoria’s as she greeted old friends and shared her future plans with them.
Sitting next to Thomas, enjoying his protection and companionship, as well as his account of the plans he had for helping Fern, Martha could scarcely believe she had actually questioned the idea of spending the rest of her life with him. Whatever the future held, whatever changes took place, she knew she could face it all with Thomas by her side and her faith to sustain her.
When the congregation once again raised their voices in song, she recognized the closing hymn. Apparently, so did Thomas. He stiffened, too. “Should we get down so we can get closer?” she asked.
He still held on to her hand. “We’ll have a better view from here.”
He was right. His sleigh was parked at such an angle that they would be able to see everyone as they emerged from the meetinghouse. Also, being seated in the sleigh provided the added advantage of height so they would have a panoramic view.
The moment the door opened, she caught her breath for a moment. “What are you going to do when he brings Nancy over to us?” she asked. She was not even certain Nancy would agree to come over or if that was part of the plan.
Thomas grinned. “Just watch.”
She looked back at the meetinghouse. Several children, as usual, piled out first, followed by several men she recognized as farmers from up on Double Trouble Creek. To her surprise, the first woman she saw was Nancy. Her hood was pushed fully forward. Martha could not see Nancy’s face, but she recognized her by that awful, garish ribbon trimming her cape.
Clifford immediately rushed forward to speak to his wife. Martha turned back to Thomas. “I told them to take off that ribbon!” she whispered. “He found her right away.”
“Look again,” Thomas suggested.
She glanced back, blinked to clear her vision, and blinked again. But the images remained the same. Only then did she realize that the sisterhood in Trinity was much larger, and much more powerful, than she could ever have imagined.
35
Amazed, Martha watched as two more women emerged, then a third. And a fourth. All with their hoods pitched forward and held in place to cover all but their eyes. All with their capes trimmed in bile-green and sunflower-yellow ribbon.
Her heart began to race, but she was too surprised to do anything more than watch the scene unfold. One by one, the congregation emerged into the outer yard. Each woman was escorted and protected by a husband or son, uncle, male cousin, or neighbor. They scattered to different wagons, each ready to carry away a woman who might be Nancy.
Some women were obviously too short or too tall, whereas others appeared to be too heavy, although Martha granted a few pillows would create the same image for Nancy. One by one, the women climbed into the wagons and presented onlookers with only a view of their backs.
Clifford frantically charged toward one wagon after another, only to meet a solid wall of resistance as the menfolk stood side by side, with righteousness their greatest weapon.
When two women turned and began to approach Thomas’s sleigh, Martha thought they were Fern and Ivy. As well as she knew them, though, she could not be sure. They may have disguised Nancy with pillows to make everyone, including Martha, think she was either Fern or Ivy. Thomas got out of the sleigh to meet them. He directed them to the sleigh, but stayed behind to greet a number of people, including Sheriff Myer. Moments later, Thomas caught up with the two women and helped them into the seat behind Martha. She promptly turned in her seat to face them as they got comfortable and stored the basket of treats between them.
“You did a good job!” Fern whispered.
“He’s got to be furious!” Ivy offered.
Martha recognized both their voices and grinned. “How did you ever get the whole town to cooperate?”
Fern leaned forward as Thomas got back into the sleigh. “It wasn’t hard. After Nancy started going out on errands, folks saw what her husband had done to her with their own eyes. I had a feeling they’d look forward to making a stand together to help her.”
“Russell helped, too. By being so obsessive and making a nuisance of himself in town,” Ivy added. “He’ll never know which woman is Nancy, and he’ll have no way to follow her. Not with all these wagons going off in every direction. He’ll simply have to leave town. Alone.”
“I’m so proud of you both,�
�� Martha whispered. “I wish I could stay and talk, but I have to find Victoria, so I’ll wish you both Godspeed.”
When she went to climb down, Thomas caught her elbow. “Enoch told me Victoria forgot her basket of treats, so they’re going back to the confectionery. I told him I’d drive you there so you can say good-bye.”
Relieved, yet still awed by the spectacle still taking place, Martha relaxed against the back of the seat. Thomas urged the horses forward as soon as the wagons blocking him moved out of the way.
Now that she was fairly certain Nancy was on her way to a new life, without any fear Russell would follow her, the full reality of bidding Victoria farewell hit hard. Fighting back tears, she hung on to the thought that September would be here soon, bringing a bountiful harvest to all, Lord willing, and her daughter home to Trinity.
When they reached the confectionery, the wagon and sleigh traffic was heavy along both West and East Main Street. Sheriff Myer had parked his sleigh in front of the shop. June was still seated, but Victoria was just climbing out onto the sidewalk.
Even wearing a ribboned cape, Martha recognized her daughter. “Victoria!” She did not wait for Thomas to help her down but clambered to the walkway as gracefully as she could and grabbed hold of her makeshift crutch.
Victoria’s hood blew back as she raced to her mother’s side. “Mother! What happened?”
“I slipped and hurt my ankle. It’s nothing serious.”
“Widow Cade!”
The sound of Russell Clifford’s voice sent tremors down Martha’s spine. She turned and placed herself in front of Victoria. Both Thomas and the sheriff disembarked and stood on either side of them before Clifford arrived.
“You tricked me! You all tricked me,” he shouted. When he took a step closer, both Thomas and the sheriff closed ranks while June, Fern, and Ivy watched silently.
“You can’t win this time, Mr. Clifford. It’s time you moved on. You have no friends here,” Thomas warned.
Clifford snarled. “I want my wife, and I want her now!”
“She’s gone. Someplace safe, where you won’t be able to hurt her,” Thomas countered. He handed Clifford an envelope. “It’s a fair price for your farm. Stop by my house on your way out of town to sign the bill of sale. My son-in-law and several of my friends will be waiting for you.”
Russell shoved the envelope into his pocket. “And if I don’t?”
The sheriff snickered. “Under the circumstances, I suggest you do as the mayor says, or else I’ll be forced to place you under arrest and see that your sorry soul rots in prison.”
Russell Clifford paled. “Arrest me? On what charges?”
Thomas shrugged. “I don’t think it matters, does it, Enoch? There isn’t a man who’d serve on the jury who would vote Clifford innocent, regardless of the charge. Men in Trinity tend to be stubborn when it comes to protecting their women. And they’d be hard-pressed to accept your claim that the signature on the bill of sale is a forgery.”
Russell backed up. “You’re a lunatic. You’re all lunatics! You want me gone? So be it. That mindless twit isn’t worth it,” he spat. He stormed off, only to take up a position just inside the covered bridge to watch them from afar—as if he still expected Nancy to suddenly appear.
“He won’t cause any trouble now,” Thomas assured her. “Micah and the others will make sure of it.”
Martha let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she whispered to both men, before turning and embracing her daughter. “I don’t think I’ll ever be more proud of you than I am right now. And I’m relieved to know you really didn’t like that ribbon,” she added, if only to lighten the moment.
Victoria returned her mother’s hug and chuckled. “Me too.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “We really should be leaving. I’d like to be in Sunrise before dark.”
“I just need my basket. I’ll only be a moment,” Victoria promised and hurried into the confectionery.
While she waited for her daughter to return, Martha gave Fern and Ivy a farewell hug before limping over to bid June farewell. Her voice choked with emotion. “There’s so much I want to say,” she managed.
June smiled. “It’s been my pleasure. I’ll write soon and tell you all about the trip. Don’t forget to work on that series of articles.”
“No. I won’t.”
When Victoria returned, with her hood tightly bound again and her basket on her arm, Martha gave her a farewell hug. “Godspeed, child. I love you.”
Apparently, Victoria was so overcome with emotion, she could not speak or look at her mother. Instead, she returned the hug and quickly climbed aboard. Thomas helped Martha to the confectionery door and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I intend to hold you to your promise.”
“I expect you to do just that,” she teased. She watched him get back into the sleigh and waved to Fern and Ivy as the sleigh started forward, heading south toward Philadelphia. Martha waved to June and Victoria as the sheriff guided them north, toward Sunrise and eventually New York City, and saw Russell Clifford shake his fist at Thomas before turning and stomping back across the bridge.
Martha waited until both sleighs were out of sight before going into the confectionery, uncertain whether her heart would ever recover from such an emotional day. Her ankle ached mercilessly, and she was near total nervous exhaustion. She made her way through the vestibule, stopped, and crinkled her nose.
The tantalizing and unmistakable aroma of freshly baked cherry pie hung in the air. Bless their hearts, Fern and Ivy must have known how sad and lonely Martha would be and had baked it for her, knowing cherry pie was her absolute favorite.
She limped as fast as she could, entered the kitchen, and gasped. She dropped her crutch. Her heart nearly leaped right out of her chest. Stunned senseless and rendered speechless, she stared straight ahead at the faces of three people who awaited her.
Tears blurred her vision, but in that very instant, when she looked into Victoria’s eyes, she knew exactly where Nancy had gone.
In point of fact, she would have collapsed if her daughter had not rushed forward to help. Victoria led her to the table where the other two waited for her, along with a half-eaten cherry pie that they had helped themselves to. “Sit down and rest that ankle while I tell you all about—”
“That was Nancy who just left, wasn’t it? Little wonder she didn’t look at me. Wh-what are you doing here?” Martha turned to the others. “And you. And you!” She addressed all three of them before easing into her seat.
After Victoria left the room to find a stool so Martha could prop up her ankle, Samuel spoke first. “I’m here to show you this.” He pulled a paper from his pocket and laid it on the table. “Read it.”
Will grinned. “Got myself a new name now. William Samuel Meeks. I know Will’s short for William, but you can call me William from now on.”
Martha scanned the paper. “You adopted Will?” she asked, completely astounded that any court would consider letting a man of seventy adopt a child.
“Everything’s official, so don’t go tryin’ to meddle again,” he teased. “Even hired us a housekeeper of sorts. Fancy’s an old salt who served with me for some twenty years, though he claimed the galley as his domain. He had enough with livin’ on handouts in Clarion. He’s out to the cabin now, gettin’ it all cleaned up. Man can’t leave for a few weeks without worryin’ about some squatter movin’ in!”
Martha tried to imagine what Russell Clifford’s reaction would have been if he had met up with Samuel or his cohort and chuckled. Before she could do more than think to offer both Samuel and Will an apology, Victoria returned with a footstool, knelt down, and helped Martha get her foot situated. “And you?” she asked. “Did you really let Nancy take your place?”
Victoria looked up at her mother with tear-filled eyes. “As much as I thought I wanted to go back to New York, I knew Nancy needed to go even more.”
Martha’s heart skipped a beat. “You only though
t you wanted to go? You weren’t sure?”
Victoria smiled. “I thought I was sure, but the longer I stayed home, the more I realized how much I wanted to stay here. I . . . I can write anywhere. I know that now, but there’s only one place where I can be with you. And that’s here. In Trinity. Although I probably should hide for a while, just to be sure Mr. Clifford is long gone and doesn’t find out Nancy switched places with me.”
Martha thought of the key from Thomas that she had upstairs and knew exactly where to hide her daughter. She cupped Victoria’s cheek. “I was wrong earlier when I said I couldn’t ever imagine being prouder of you, because right now, I am.”
As they embraced and wept together, Martha offered a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving to her Creator. He had truly guided her daughter home. To Trinity. To her mother. And for good measure, He had led Samuel and Will back into Martha’s life, too, along with another retired seaman named Fancy, of all things.
As for Thomas and the future they might soon share together, Martha could only offer yet another prayer that would grant Thomas a safe and successful journey and bring him home to her in Trinity, too.
Amen.
Author’s Note
My interest in the history of midwifery in the United States began after I read A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary, 1785–1812 by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, which won the Pulitzer Prize. I have based my character of Martha on this real-life heroine. I encourage readers to read about her and enjoy the continuing story of my midwife in Trinity, Martha Cade.
Modern midwifery has made significant advances since the nineteenth century. Readers who are interested in modern midwifery techniques and their advantages are encouraged to refer to contemporary literature for information and advice rather than applying any historical midwifery practices explored in this novel. Readers are also advised to contact their physicians and modern-day midwives. Any decisions readers make regarding pregnancy and labor/delivery should be based on sound, professional, up-to-date information.
