The Midwife and the Lawman

by Marisa Carroll

  “How long were you camping out in the mine?”

  Sylvia shuddered. “Two weeks. I don’t want to go back.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m going to Angel’s Gate Sunday evening,” Devon said. “I’ll make inquiries about your aunt.”

  “You’ll do that for us?”

  “Yes.” Devon had made her decision to hide the children days ago, and this was only the next logical step. “What’s her name?”

  “Sylvia, no. Enough talk.” Jesse was standing in the kitchen doorway, hair rumpled, a shadow of beard darkening his chin. Devon had bought him a razor and shaving cream on her trip to Taos, but she suspected he thought the beard made him look older and so far he hadn’t shaved.

  “Jesse. Come see my picture,” Maria said, holding up the picture book. “¿Es muy linda, no?”

  “Yeah, it’s real good.” He smiled at his little sister and crossed the small kitchen to lean over her chair and take a closer look. Around Devon, Jesse projected street-smart toughness, but with Maria he gave himself away, and Devon could see glimpses of the happy boy he must once have been.

  “I’m hungry. I want something to eat.” Maria gave her brother a beatific smile, then looked over to shower its brightness on Devon and Sylvia. The happiness in that one smile banished the doubts tormenting Devon. She was doing the right thing in hiding the children. It would all work out. She would see to it.

  “You just finished dinner,” Sylvia said. She folded the dishcloth and hung it over the edge of the sink.

  “Deseo uvas,” Maria pointed to the bowl of fruit Devon had kept on the table since they arrived.

  “Of course you may have some grapes,” Devon said. “Why don’t you take them upstairs to eat while you watch TV? I need to talk to your brother and sister, and it’s really boring stuff.” She wasn’t about to let Jesse and Sylvia change the subject yet again. She needed to learn more about their situation. And of even greater importance to learn were the particulars of Sylvia’s pregnancy. But at the moment that required more trust on the teen’s part than she’d yet been willing to give Devon.

  “SpongeBob,” Maria said, pointing to her T-shirt as she gathered up her coloring book and crayons. “Can I, Jesse?”

  “Sure, but don’t turn it up too loud.” When she looked confused at his words, he put his finger to his lips. “Silencio.”

  When Maria disappeared up the stairs to the loft, Jesse faced Devon, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw thrust forward. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I want to talk about what we’re going to do about the situation you three are in.”

  “What can you do to help?” Jesse asked with a sneer.

  “She’s already helped us so much,” Sylvia interrupted. “She’s fed us and given Maria medicine to make her well and bought us these clothes.”

  “All right,” Jesse said, “she’s helped us. But what else do you think you can do?”

  “I don’t know,” Devon said truthfully, “yet. But unless you tell me everything, it’s a sure bet whatever I try to do for you won’t be enough.”

  “Our parents are dead. We don’t have green cards. We’re on the run from my cousin who let his jerk boss’s son get my sister pregnant. What else do you need to know?”

  “Kyle wasn’t a jerk. He was good to me.”

  “He’s a jerk. He was never going to marry you. His rich grandfather won’t pay his way into Harvard if he’s dragging an illegal Mexican girlfriend and little brown baby along with him.”

  “He said he loved me,” Sylvia whispered. Huge tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “He promised we’d always be together.”

  Jesse softened at the sight of his sister’s tears. “He didn’t mean it. That’s why he’s a jerk. He ran off to Los Angeles to his grandfather as soon as he heard you were pregnant. I’m only telling it like it is, Sylvia.”

  “I know.” The hurt and humiliation in the words touched Devon’s heart.

  “This Kyle whoever-he-is and Sylvia may be too young to think about getting married,” Devon said. “But he must be made to accept responsibility for the baby if he’s the father.” She’d like to get her hands on the spoiled foolish boy that had fathered Sylvia’s baby and give him a piece of her mind.

  “Yeah. Right.” Jesse didn’t bother to hide his scorn. “How long do you think my sister would be allowed to stay here if she goes after him for money?”

  “I don’t know,” Devon said.

  He gave a disgusted snort and snapped his fingers. “About that long.”

  Sylvia’s head came up. “She’s only trying to help, Jesse.” Tears continued to stream down her cheeks. “I’m scared, Jesse. I don’t know anything about babies.” She covered her face with her hands and began to sob harder. Devon wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

  “It’s all right, Sylvia. I’ll help you have the baby. Everything will be all right.” She gave her a little squeeze. “I’m very good at delivering babies. It’s what I do, you know.”

  Sylvia nodded and her sobs diminished slightly.

  Jesse’s hands clenched into fists on the back of the chair, but when he spoke again, it was without anger. “She can’t get us green cards, Sylvia. She can’t keep Family Services from breaking us up, notifying la migra, sending me and you back to Mexico. Taking Maria away from us.”

  “Maybe I can’t,” Devon admitted, “but I’m damn well going to try.”

  “How?”

  “First of all we need to come up with a reason to explain why you’re here with me. You can’t stay secretly holed up in the loft. And you can’t just head out on your own again.”

  “Why not? We got from Phoenix to Tucson to Taos on our own. We found out where Aunt Lucia’s probably working. We stayed in the mine for over two weeks with no one finding us.”

  “And Maria got sick,” Sylvia said. She’d stopped crying, but stayed within the comforting circle of Devon’s arms. “If Devon hadn’t found us, she could have died.”

  “You did the best you could,” Devon said. “But now your best isn’t good enough. Sylvia needs to have medical care for herself and the baby.”

  “And if the baby is born here, maybe they won’t send us back.”

  Devon wanted to reassure her, but she couldn’t. “I don’t know what will happen, Sylvia. But I’ll find out. What’s most important now is getting you some medical attention. I’m going to tell everyone that your mother was my friend in Albuquerque. That you’re staying with me while your cousin, your guardian, is visiting sick relatives in Mexico.” The more truth she could weave into her deception, the better chance she had of it succeeding. At least for a while. Neither Miguel nor her grandmother would be easy to fool for long. She ignored the renewed uneasiness her words engendered and kept on talking. “What about your father? Could he help?”

  “He’s dead, too,” Jesse said flatly, but without the rancor of his earlier words. “He’s been dead since we were little. And Maria’s father? We haven’t seen him since she was a baby.”

  “Okay. Forget that. And you don’t think your cousin—”

  “No!” Jesse spat.

  “He’s not a good man,” Sylvia agreed.

  Devon could feel her trembling. Another door closed. She had no option, it seemed, but to continue with the deception she’d just hatched.

  “Okay, then we’ll go with my plan. I’ll tell my grandmother that you’ll be arriving soon. And that Sylvia is pregnant and needs care. You don’t need to tell anyone anything more than what we just discussed. Understood?”

  “Will the others, your friends, the cop you talked to, will they believe you?”

  Devon nodded firmly. “They have no reason to believe I would lie to them.”

  Jesse watched her awhile longer. She gave him back look for look. “Okay. We’ll stay.”

  “It’s settled then. And now I think you had better tell me your last names, or my grandmother will know something’s up the moment we walk thr
ough the clinic door.”

  Brother and sister exchanged a glance. “Our name is Molina,” Jesse replied. “Maria’s is, too. My mother said my father would not mind her having his name. He was a good man.”

  “And your mother’s name? I…I need to know if I’m to tell my grandmother she was my friend.”

  “Dolores,” Sylvia said softly.

  “And your aunt is Lucia Molina.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you checked the telephone book?” Devon asked.

  “I checked first thing. And called information, too. She’s not listed.”

  Devon hadn’t expected it to be easy.

  “Okay. Tomorrow I’ll tell my grandmother that you’re all coming to stay with me. Then we’ll go to the clinic and introduce you to her and you can stop spending all your time in the loft watching TV.” Devon was glad it was summer. She wasn’t ready yet to deal with the logistics of enrolling three undocumented children in Enchantment’s school system. She wasn’t certain she’d be in Enchantment at summer’s end herself.

  “We need to go get our truck,” Jesse said.

  Devon shook her head. “There’s no place to hide it here. You’ll have to leave it where it is.”

  For just a moment she felt a cold wave of fear wash over her. She was building a wall around herself that grew taller with every lie she told. If she wasn’t careful, it would cut her off completely from everyone she knew and loved—just the way the lies that Lydia had told about selling Hope’s baby all those years ago affected their relationship to this very day. Had her grandmother felt this same fear, this aloneness? And had she ignored it as Devon intended to do?

  She wasn’t going to change her mind. She wasn’t going to confide in another soul, not her grandmother, not Hope Reynolds, not Miguel. Especially not Miguel. She had given the children her word that she would protect them and keep them together. She was doing the right thing for them. That was all she needed to know.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THE DOPPLER READING on Karen Fineman definitely indicates two distinct heartbeats. She’s having twins,” Katherine Collins, one of Lydia’s longtime employees, announced to the room full of midwives. Devon’s smile, like everyone else’s, was genuine and spontaneous.

  The staff meeting was being held after hours at the clinic. There had been no opportunity during the day. Hope was seated beside Devon on the couch. Trish Linden was behind the reception desk at her usual spot. Kim sat primly on a straight-backed chair near Lydia’s, taking notes on a pad in her lap. The center’s other midwife, Gina, and their nurse, Lenora, were out assisting a birth. The only man in attendance was Parker Reynolds—Hope’s husband and the center’s administrator. He leaned against the high counter of Trish’s desk, a little apart from the women.

  “I believe Lupe Skyhunter was the last,” Lydia said, “and her little ones will be three come September.” Lydia’s memory for the births she attended was phenomenal. Devon had only been in practice three years, and already she had to consult her journal to place some of her earliest babies.

  “Karen and her husband were quite surprised by the news, although I suspected multiples might be the case on her last visit,” Katherine admitted. “To make sure, I’ve recommended she go to Arroyo for an ultrasound test.”

  Heidi Brandt, Katherine’s longtime partner, spoke next. “Karen’s husband isn’t as committed to a midwife birth as Karen is.” Heidi was short and plump and, like Katherine, middle-aged. Dressed in a denim jumper and sandals, she looked like the Peace Corps volunteer she once had been.

  “I will probably also recommend Karen make an appointment with Dr. Ochoa,” Katherine went on. “This is her third pregnancy and she’s excited about a midwife birth, but she’s also very nervous. It’s not a good combination, especially with the possibility of complications that always arise in a multiple. I’ve promised to be there for her when her time comes, but this is one case I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn over to the medicos.” She leaned back in the worn leather armchair where she’d been sitting with Heidi perched on the arm. She wasn’t smiling anymore. None of the midwives liked to turn their patients over to an OB/GYN, even Dr. Ochoa, who had more respect for their profession than many doctors.

  “That is, of course, your privilege,” Lydia said with a sideways look at Devon. If Devon applied for privileges at Arroyo County Hospital and they were granted, she could oversee Karen’s case. But Devon had made no effort to formalize her association with the hospital administration beyond a courtesy meeting with Dr. Ochoa.

  “That brings us to our last two items of business,” Kim said before the silence grew uncomfortable. “Trish has the monthly totals for office visits and deliveries and then I have some new business to discuss.”

  “Thanks, Kim,” Trish said. “First, I’ve updated the clinic Web site this week, and if I do say so myself it’s looking pretty good. Check it out when you get a free minute or two.”

  “I’ve already been there,” Heidi sang out. “It looks great and you spelled everyone’s name correctly.” Applause and laughter greeted her endorsement.

  “Thank you,” Trish said, looking pleased. “Okay. Where was I? Oh, yes. Monthly statistics. We’ve logged one hundred forty-six office visits, including prenatal, postnatal, reproductive health visits and childbirth classes. Devon has agreed to take over Joanna Carson’s New Mother classes, since Dr. Jo wants to slow down a little what with the baby coming and all. Your next class begins two weeks from Wednesday, Devon. We have seven mothers-to-be signed up.”

  “Thanks, Trish. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “We referred eleven patients to Celia Brice for counseling or family guidance. We’ve got eleven births to report so far, twelve when Gina and Lenora get back, with six patients due in the next ten days. Four boys and seven girls. Two have been home births. Nine delivered here at the clinic. We’ve been busy, ladies.”

  “Amen, to that,” Katherine intoned.

  “Just a reminder that the state inspectors are scheduled for sometime next month, so please all of you make sure your charting is up-to-date.” She swiveled in her chair to check out the calendar on the wall behind her. “The next full moon is Tuesday, so everyone have a nice quiet weekend and be ready for the fun and games.” More laughter greeted her words. An age-old tenet of midwifery, and indeed every maternity ward Devon had ever been in, held with the maxim that full moons always produced babies. Sometimes lots of babies.

  “Thanks, Trish,” Kim said. “Lydia? Anything you wish to add?”

  Lydia stiffened slightly, but shook her head, indicating Kim should continue.

  “What I have to report concerns the subject of ultrasound testing.” Being on the board of directors, Devon knew the clinic was as solvent as it had been for several years, but there was no money available for such a major expenditure and possibly never would be. “I’ve found a sonography firm in Taos that we can contract with that’ll give our patients a better rate than Arroyo County. They accept most insurance plans and they employ a sliding fee for uninsured patients. I’ve worked out a deal with them that insures our clients enough of a savings to justify the extra time spent in traveling. If any of you recommend your mothers have the procedure, or if they just want to learn the baby’s sex, I can help you make the appointment.” She leaned back in her chair with a small, satisfied smile on her face. Saving money for the clinic and the patients was something of a crusade with her cousin, Devon had come to realize.

  “Recommendation of the procedure is still completely voluntary on your parts, just as it has always been,” Lydia said. “But perhaps it’s time to formalize our policy on the matter. More and more of our patients want to know the sex of their babies before they’re born, and if that knowledge contributes to the mother’s well-being and we can get her the best price available, then I have no problem with it. Are there any questions?”

  Heidi and Katherine shook their heads in unison, although from their expressions Devon deduced ne
ither of the two traditional midwives was enthusiastic about the idea. Had Lydia done this for her? Endorsing an area of technology that she considered alien to her craft so that Devon would feel more comfortable utilizing it in her practice here? Was it one more attempt to bridge the gap between them?

  If it was, could she take it several steps further and confide in her grandmother about the children? Lydia had seemed to accept her out-of-the-blue explanation for taking them into her home, although at the last moment she’d gotten cold feet and not mentioned Sylvia’s pregnancy. Lydia had made herself available to see Devon’s patients so that she could carry out her ruse of going to Albuquerque to pick them up. But to confess and confide all the details of what she had done the past few days required a leap of faith Devon wasn’t yet ready to make.

  “Very well, then,” Lydia said. “I’m sure you all want to get home to your families. Have a nice weekend.”

  Katherine and Heidi left together with Trish after a barrage of questions about her visitors that Devon did her best to answer. They were trusting, bighearted women. She wasn’t surprised that they would take her announcement in stride. All of them would have offered the children sanctuary at a friend’s behest, and they saw nothing unusual in Devon’s doing so. Kim followed the others out the door, inviting Maria to come and play with Sammy when she was settled in.

  Devon bent to retrieve her shoulder bag, which had dropped out of sight behind the couch. When she straightened, she saw that Parker and Hope had made no move to leave the room.

  “There is something we all need to talk about,” Hope began.

  “Hope, no.” There was a pleading note in her grandmother’s voice. She clutched the big woven bag she carried as a purse to her chest.

  “We’ve put this off too long,” Parker added. He was a handsome man with a ready smile, but tonight he looked somber. And Hope wouldn’t meet Devon’s gaze. “Sit down, Lydia. Devon.” He motioned Devon to her seat as Lydia dropped heavily onto a chair.