Healing Sarah (American Homespun Book 3) Page 17

  “It would be helpful, but I don’t have the money. I didn’t know Miss Smith was paid to be here.” A tear finally escaped.

  Tim resisted the urge to wipe it. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll talk with my mother and Mrs. Morton. They may know of someone.”

  Sarah half turned and used the handkerchief. “Amity will need to like her.”

  “I don’t know if it will matter much at the moment or if we will even be able to tell. I will try to find someone who has experience with the sick, or at least midwifery.”

  For the first time since he arrived, Sarah willingly looked at him. “Thank you, Tim.”

  He left before he did anything stupid.

  To say Mrs. Duncan had saved Sarah’s life was an exaggeration. But not by much. Sarah walked by the church green, which was much browner than it should be this time of year. Sadly, the late snows and the few rainstorms were not enough to end the drought. The calendar in the post-office window told her it had been twenty days since Mr. Barns died. Each day seemed much the same to Sarah, some cooler than the others but the same.

  Ahead of her, Miss Brooks, Miss Page, and a young woman Sarah didn’t recognize laughed as they read a news sheet. Good news? Samuel had left a copy of the Merrimack Intelligencer last week. The front page had urged farmers to try to plant again after the early July frost. Sarah hadn’t realized it had gotten so cold.

  “Oh, Sarah, have you seen this? It is the most hilarious thing!” Parmelia moved to the side so Sarah could read the column.

  “I can’t think any woman of quality would answer him,” said the unknown woman.

  Miss Brooks looked up. “I am sure he will get many inquiries, all highly unsuitable. Even Parmelia’s coffee wouldn’t meet this standard.”

  Poor man. He was doomed to be the laughing stock of all who knew him if newspapers nearly four hundred miles away were mocking his advertisement.

  “I shall be glad I am too old for his age requirement.” Sarah gave them all a smile and walked on.

  At Swanson’s she found the price of flour had risen sharply. Without her even asking, the clerk apologized.

  “With the drought this year and last and the untimely frosts killing most of the crops again and with Canada begging for imports, our supplier raised his price. We are very sorry, miss.”

  Sarah wondered if the more valid article was the short one she’d seen next to the ad. There may well be those who went hungry this winter. Starvation. The thought made for a ponderous walk home.

  Mrs. Morton accompanied Tim for this visit. Not that he doubted Sarah’s skills, but she lacked experience. Amity’s lack of communication didn’t help him in gauging the situation.

  Mrs. Duncan showed them into the bedroom, where Amity sat in the chair, rocking and humming and clutching the nine-patch quilt Sarah had completed. “Miss Sarah went to the store. Do you need her?”

  Tim looked to Mrs. Morton for confirmation before speaking. “It would be best if she were here. While we are waiting, I’ll see if I can get Amity to talk with me.” Mrs. Morton sat on the chair next to Amity and started to hum along. Amity seemed oblivious to anyone in the room.

  “Amity?” Tim reached out and touched the back of Amity’s hand. Still, there was no response. Tim walked out of the room.

  Mrs. Duncan stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “Dr. Dawes, would you fancy a bit of cake?”

  “No, thank you. I think I will sit in the parlor for a minute. I had one of those early morning calls, and now I want to sleep.”

  With the window open, the parlor was neither too hot nor too cold—a rarity this month. Tim sat in the largest chair and shut his eyes.

  A rustling on the porch woke him. He sat up and straightened his coat. No one came in or knocked. He looked out the window and saw a woman hurrying away from the door. He’d seen that bonnet someplace before …

  Sarah straightened her shoulders and prepared herself to open the door. A paper, the same as the others, was stuffed next to the doorknob.

  Answer this ad. Oh, but he probably won’t want a fallen woman. And you are too old!

  A clipping from the July 24th Worcester Gazette was attached. It was the same one she read yesterday in the Baltimore Federal Gazette.

  WANTED

  A Young Lady, about 17 or 21 years of age, as a wife. She must be well acquainted with the necessary accomplishments of such; she must understand washing and ironing, baking bread, making good coffee, roasting beef, veal, &c. boneing a fowl, broiling a fish, making tarts, plumb-pudding and deserts of all kinds, preserving fruits and pickles, expert with a needle, keeping a clean and snug house; must know reading writing and arithmetick. Never have been in the habit of attending ball-rooms; she must have been taught true and genuine principles of religion, and a member in church of good standing; must not be addicted to making too free use of her tongue, such as repeating any report that is injurious to her neighbor, or using taunting language to any person about her house. A Lady finding herself in possession of the above accomplishments, will please address to Alphonso. It will not be required that she should exercise all these requisites, unless a change in fortune should take place the which time it will be necessary, in order to live with such economy as to prevent a trespass on our friends, whose frowns and caprices we otherwise must endure—what every man of noble mind will despise. At present she shall have a coach and four at her command, servants in abundance, a house furnished in first modern style; shall always be treated with that tender affection which female delicacy requires and nothing shall be wanting that will be necessary to contribute to her happiness.

  Sarah crumpled it in her hand and opened the door.

  Tim reached for the basket. “Do you need some help?”

  She handed him the basket with the flour and sundries and hurried up the stairs, hoping he hadn’t seen the note.

  Thirty

  The first week of August seemed frightfully normal as far as the weather. Sarah donned the gray muslin and vowed to stay near the house. Amity seemed no closer to her lying-in than she had a month ago. Mrs. Morton thought it was because she wasn’t very active. Today’s goal? Convince Amity to walk past the bedroom doorway.

  Sarah failed twice. Each time they reached the door, Amity would scream and thrash about. Mrs. Duncan tried once and got the same response. Amity returned to her bed.

  “You should take a minute and get out of the house.”

  Sarah rubbed the spot on her arm where Amity had hit her. “So should you.”

  “Nonsense. I have been out already today.”

  “Hanging the laundry on the line doesn’t count.”

  Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Still, it is more than you have been out. Go take the slop to that pig of yours. Then you won’t need to change your dress.”

  Sarah took the bucket and went out the back door. With all the sheets and things hanging on the lines, she walked a maze to the pig pen. “Hey there, Piggy Peggy. I brought you some food.”

  The pig snorted.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t cook this week, so it is all edible. Well, other than the cake someone brought by the other day.” I’ve been reduced to talking to a pig. The loneliness that settled around Sarah’s heart the day Dorcas left had grown. Knowing the only reason she had been a friend was because she had been paid stung. Perhaps that was why Mrs. Duncan remained simply a kind person who worked in the house.

  “Sarah? Sarah?”

  “Maryanna?”

  Maryanna made her way through a set of sheets. “There you are! Come offer me a drink and let’s talk.”

  “What are you doing in town? Are you alone?” Sarah led the way back to the porch.

  “Philip and Papa are with me, but they are off to the blacksmith’s. And I just came from Mrs. Morton’s.” Maryanna sat on the porch step.

  Sarah looked her niece up and down. “There are only a few reasons for a woman of your age to visit a midwife. Are you saying?”

  “In February.�
��

  Sarah hugged Maryanna, aware that at the same time her heart overflowed with love and congratulations, the little hole hiding in the back had just grown deeper. “I can’t believe it! Your own baby. What did Lucy say?”

  “Mama has been smiling for a week. Although she does find it odd Anna and Little Emma will be practically the same age as her first grandchild. Papa said they could have one younger, too. Mama told him to move into the barn and—”

  “Don’t tell me he started to talk like a pirate!” Sarah had always thought Lucy and Samuel’s banter endearing, even if it was a bit silly.

  Maryanna closed one eye. “Are ye sayin’ me bonny wench is a’feared of a wee grandbaby?”

  Sarah hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks. “And I bet he isn’t in the barn either.”

  “Never. Besides, Mama says the girls are still not sleeping through the night, and she needs the extra hands. But that is not the only reason we are in town.” Maryanna twisted her skirt, a sure sign she had another secret.

  “You may as well tell me. Papa won’t have you clean the floors anymore.”

  “Uncle John is also here. He says if there is one more freeze before October, he is out of here. Uncle Joe sent him a letter from Indiana last week, and he wants to move. They are trying to decide what to do with the farm since Daniel still owns part of it. Uncle Joe isn’t coming back, and he said to sell off his part. I think Uncle John will leave either way. His Indian corn is coming in nicely, or at least as good as anyone else’s. I think he is looking for an excuse to leave.”

  “What does Samuel say?” Sarah fanned her skirts.

  “He thinks Uncle John and Uncle Joe should just rent the farm in case they decide to come back. I don’t think they’ll come back to where Remember is buried, not when they are talking again.”

  Maryanna was probably right. Joe had brought Remember from Boston to meet the family before declaring himself. If only he had married her before the visit, John would not have kissed her, and Joe would not have left. “At least the farm isn’t mortgaged, but who wants to rent a farm now?”

  Maryanna laid a protective hand over her abdomen. “We do.”

  “It would be nice to live in your own place after living with Philip’s parents, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid if we don’t move soon, he won’t love me anymore. Mother Gardner is always pointing out what I do wrong. She even objects to the way I kiss!”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped. There was no other response.

  “Mama and Papa always kiss and hug in front of us, but in her house, it isn’t proper.”

  Sarah handed Maryanna a handkerchief. “Does she know you are in the family way?”

  Maryanna nodded. “I don’t want Uncle John to leave, but I want our own place.”

  They felt the vibrations of the footfalls before they saw the men.

  “So, this is where my girls are hiding.”

  Sarah stepped into Samuel’s welcome hug.

  “Did Maryanna tell you all the family secrets?” he asked.

  “I am not sure.”

  Maryanna stood next to her husband. “Yes, I did.” The couple blushed in unison.

  John stepped forward. “Sarah, I’ve asked Samuel’s permission to ask you something, and he said you are a grown woman. Can I get you to walk with me for a minute?”

  Sarah sighed, but she could endure one last proposal. “Only as far as the back fence. I am not dressed in the proper black to walk to the green.” She led the way, stopping at the stable, empty but for the nanny goat.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me. Joe says there are more men than women out there because some of the soldiers didn’t go back home, like him. I know you feel you have no prospects around here, and if you want to go, you can come with us as my sister. I plan to leave in the next week or two. So you have a little time to think about it. I promise I’ll wait for Miss Amity to have her child if that is what’s keeping you here.”

  It was the longest speech she’d heard out of John without him grumbling since Remember died. “I don’t know. I need to think on it.”

  “You should probably pray too. Let’s get back before Samuel thinks I kidnapped you.” John didn’t wait for her.

  Indiana. Miles farther than Ohio. If she left, her tormentor would stop and Tim would never learn the truth about her heart.

  Going west was brave. Wasn’t it?

  “She hasn’t eaten all morning?” Tim questioned Mrs. Duncan again before trying to find a pulse.

  “She threw her porridge at Miss Sarah. And when she tried again, Amity got her across the nose.”

  “Is Miss Marden injured?”

  “Not bad.” Sarah entered the room and sat on the opposite side of the bed. “She has been rocking backward in the chair, but I only counted a couple of contractions in fifteen minutes.”

  “Should I send for Mrs. Morton?”

  Sarah brushed a hair away from the sleeping girl’s face. “Not yet. She has hours and hours to go. Don’t worry. I’ll send one of the Larkin boys long before she is needed.”

  There was nothing more for Tim to do. The biggest concern with the birth was a seizure, though it had been more than a month since Amity’s last one. “Miss Marden, will you see me out?”

  Sarah followed Tim out to the buggy.

  “Let me see your face.” Tim reached for her, but she tilted her face up before he could touch her. Her nose was slightly swollen but not enough that anyone who hadn’t studied her face would notice.

  “See, I told you. Nothing to worry about.” Sarah lowered her face.

  “We need to discuss what happens next with Amity. Come walk around the block with me. It is going to be a long night, and you could use a minute of fresh air.”

  “My hat. I’ll be right back.”

  He hated the black hat she wore to church during mourning and hoped she would wear the bonnet instead. No such luck. Sarah appeared in the church hat with the veil over her face. “If there wasn’t a breeze, I would be tempted to forbid you, as your doctor, to wear such a thing. Can you breathe under there?”

  “Quite well, Doctor. But if I am seen walking with you, I must wear this.”

  Tim offered his arm, and she took it. “I discussed the matter with Dr. Morton, and we agree that if Amity remains in this state, the best place for her will be the Friends Asylum in Philadelphia, run by the Quakers.”

  “I’ve heard of it. They will at least be kind to her. What of the child?”

  “The orphanage we had hoped to place the child with wrote that they are full at present. Most of them are. Already the poor are feeling the effects of the drought. Though there is meat on the tables now as so many farmers are selling … by winter?” Tim shrugged. “You know this, but the few families who’d expressed interest in Amity’s baby have all given the drought as their excuse for backing out.”

  The wind caught Sarah’s veil as they crossed to the green. “More than likely, now that the father is known, they are afraid the child will be a bad seed.”

  “Mrs. Morton advises we keep the baby here for a week or so as there are a few other women who are expecting, and sometimes when they lose one, they are willing to take another.” Tim moved them to the shadier side of the street.

  “That’s … that’s … I don’t have the word for it!”

  “I know, but it happens. If there is no one who will take the child, then we send it to Philadelphia with Amity and hope one of their orphanages will take it.”

  “How are you going to get her all the way there?”

  Tim swallowed. “There is a rumor John Wilson is leaving for Indiana in the next week or two and you are going with him. I thought you could see Amity safely there.”

  Sarah stopped, pulling her hand from Tim’s arm. “Where did you hear this?”

  “John told me Sunday after church.”

  Sarah moved her hands to her hips. “I only learned of the plan three days ago on Monday.”

  “You mean
you’re not yet decided?” Tim held his breath, praying she wouldn’t leave.

  “No, I am not. There are so many things I am loath to leave. But there is no reason I couldn’t teach out there.”

  “John would let you teach?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Married women don’t teach school.”

  Sarah stopped again. “I don’t know what he told you, but if I go out, it will be as his sister, not his wife.”

  Relief filled Tim. “I just assumed since he has proposed before …”

  Several women came out of the boardinghouse. In unison, Tim and Sarah turned the other direction.

  “I should be getting back. Mrs. Duncan will be worried.”

  “And you have no desire to be caught in a conversation with me.”

  At Sarah’s nod, Tim quickened his pace.

  Amity still slept, so Tim didn’t linger. He hurried to his buggy, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Miss Page, Miss Brooks, and their new companion.

  “Oh, Doctor! Is everything well? We saw you walking with Miss Marden, and she looked upset.”

  “Miss Page, Miss Brooks, and Miss … ?”

  “Oh! Do excuse our poor manners, this is Miss Long. She moved in just over a week ago.” Miss Page gestured to the newest boarder. “You were walking with Miss Marden, weren’t you? Is all well?”

  “Yes, I was walking with Miss Marden. As you may know, she has a patient of mine living with her. I needed to discuss a matter privately. If you wish to be of help, you can pray for Miss Amity. Good day, ladies.” Insufferable gossips!

  Near dawn, Amity sat up and began yelling.

  Sarah ran across the street and woke the Larkins. On her way back, she saw the paper on the porch.

  You did not try hard enough.

  I see it in his eyes when he says your name.

  At least she knew the writer was a liar.

  Thirty-one

  The sun was hanging low in the west when a knock came at the door. Mrs. Morton was conversing with a boy of about six or seven years. When they were finished, she asked him to wait. “Sarah, that was Mrs. Oakes’s son. And Widow Potting is already with Tilly Smyth. This is Mrs. Oakes’s fourth, and her last one came in just a couple hours, so I should be back. I’ll send Dr. Dawes over.” Mrs. Morton left muttering something about the full moon the night before.