The Midwife's Dilemma (8 page)

Thomas walked her out of the stable. “I'm picking you up at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, and I'll have everything packed in the buggy so we can have a full day together, just like we discussed,” he reminded her.

She gave him her very best and biggest smile. “Assuming I don't get summoned away between now and then, can we make it ten o'clock instead?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Do I want to ask why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Probably not, because if you do, you might not like the answer you get.”

“If the answer involves that horse of yours, I'm quite certain I won't like it at all.”

She looked about to make sure no one would see what she was about to do before she got on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Then it's better if you don't ask,” she whispered, barely skimming the lobe of his ear with her lips before she scooted off and walked the rest of the way home by herself, equally certain there was not a thing he could say that would make her change her plans to take Bella for a bit of a ride early tomorrow morning.

If all went as well then as she hoped, she would be able to begin a renewed and earnest search for her replacement. Between now and then, however, she had lots of praying to do, most especially before her meeting tonight with Victoria and Dr. McMillan.

M
artha had never been faced with making a decision about her daughter's future as important as the one she would make tonight.

At eight o'clock that night, steadied by God's grace, she was sitting on the settee in Dr. McMillan's second-floor parlor waiting for one very nervous young couple to rejoin her. Dr. McMillan and Victoria were downstairs in his office, where she had sent them half an hour ago to prepare for this all-important meeting to discuss their possible betrothal. Rosalind Andrews and her husband, who took care of the grounds and the stable after working at the mill all day, had retired to their rooms on the third floor before Martha and Victoria had arrived.

The parlor looked exactly as it had when the late Doc Beyer had lived here, and she still found the dark burgundy color on the walls to be oppressive, even though a pair of oil lamps on the mantel cast a gentle light to the room. Heavy winter curtains still covered the windows that faced Main Street to offer
privacy should anyone pass by, but they also made the parlor feel almost claustrophobic.

The pair of footsteps coming down the hall warned of their approach and left her with only enough time to whisper one final prayer, straighten her back, and take a deep breath just before Victoria entered the room with the doctor following right behind her.

Martha held out her hand and motioned for the young couple to sit across from her. As Dr. McMillan held the chair for Victoria to take her seat, Martha realized how much he had changed since his arrival in Trinity, and even more so these last few months.

Although he was shorter than the average man, he was still a bit taller than her petite daughter. She had not noticed it before now, but he had lost his chubby cheeks as well as a paunch more likely to be found on a man considerably older than his twenty-five years. And there was a light in his dark blue eyes when he looked at Victoria that she had never seen before.

Once Victoria was settled in her chair, he walked around to take his seat, and Martha was surprised to see that all the confidence Victoria had shown when she had first agreed to this meeting appeared to be gone. Her face was pale, her cheeks were flushed pink, and she sat stiffly, perched on the edge of her seat.

Dr. McMillan did not look any more at ease than Victoria did. He, too, sat on the edge of his seat and held his back uncommonly rigid and straight. He had apologized earlier, profusely and earnestly, for not approaching Martha months ago to ask for permission to marry Victoria, but he never once blamed his reluctance to do so on Victoria.

Martha locked a firm expression on her face. “Before I say anything else, I need to remind you how deeply disappointed I am in your behavior. What I witnessed by chance at the stable
was shocking and thoroughly unacceptable, and I expect both of you to act with proper decorum in the future. Am I understood?”

Properly chastised, the two young people nodded, each wearing a well-deserved blush of shame.

“I only have one question to ask you both before I make my final decision about whether or not I'll give you my blessing to marry. I'd like you to respond first, Victoria,” she stated, but qualified her question before she posed it. “I'm going to set aside the idea that you've each fallen in love. Mutual attraction is important, but you each need to tell me why the other would be a good and loving helpmate, should you marry.”

Victoria took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and kept her gaze focused on her mother. “Benjamin may seem to be analytical and single-minded about things, which may lead one to think he's a bit arrogant or even heartless at times, but he's not like that at all,” she began, and Martha wondered if Victoria realized she could also be describing her brother. “He cares deeply about what I think and how I feel and . . . and he listens to me when we disagree about something. He isn't above changing his mind after he does, and if he doesn't, he takes the time to explain why,” she ventured, offering a quick side glance at the man sitting in the chair next to her.

For a fleeting moment, Martha wished she could say the same thing about Thomas, which left her flustered, and she quickly looked to Dr. McMillan to offer his response.

“Being with Victoria is sometimes like trying to treat a patient who already knows what treatment is in order and disagrees with one I recommend. I used to dismiss that patient's attitude as ill-informed and uneducated, but Victoria is helping me to learn how to be more understanding and more tolerant with people. You've done that for me, too,” he added.

Martha accepted his compliment and had to admit to herself
that she found both of their answers to her liking. Indeed, she found it nearly impossible to stop the flow of happiness for her daughter that was filling her heart to the point that it threatened to overthrow and distract her from her mission.

Victoria giggled nervously and her cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. “May I say something else?”

Curious, Martha nodded her permission.

“In all truth, he has no sense of order at all, especially when it comes to his office. He also has no sense of time, especially when he's reading books or journals about new advances in medicine or the notes you've made for him on remedies, which means he often forgets everything else,” she offered and paused to think a bit before she continued. “I find it frustrating at times, but I wouldn't respect him as a doctor if he did anything less, and watching him struggle to do the best he can for his patients has helped me to understand why you're so devoted as a midwife and to realize that you did the best that you could for me and for Oliver, and . . . and that it hasn't been an easy life for you.”

Martha swallowed hard. Hearing Victoria give voice to the frustrations she had experienced as the daughter of a midwife—who was often called to duty and who, so many times, put her responsibility to the women and children she treated above her responsibilities as a mother—brought tears to her eyes.

She shifted in her seat and blinked the tears back. “Thank you, Victoria.” To her surprise, Dr. McMillan also offered more thoughts of his own.

“Even though Victoria claims that we can talk through whatever disagreements we might have, she can be headstrong and incredibly stubborn, which are traits she no doubt inherited from her mother,” he offered and raised a hand to keep Martha silent when she opened her mouth to protest. He slipped his other hand into Victoria's when she scowled at him. “I also happen
to admire those qualities to some extent. If God should see fit to call me home, leaving her as a young widow with children, I have the financial means to see that they have no worries in that regard. More important, I know she'll do anything and everything in her power to care for them and to protect them from any threat they might face, just like you've done for her.”

This time, Martha was barely able to blink back her tears before they escaped. She could not have scripted answers from either of them that would have touched her more deeply or that would have convinced her that this match would be a good one. Still, she had one final concern. “If I told you both that I wouldn't give you my blessing tonight and that I'd do everything in my power to keep you from marrying, what would you do?”

Victoria paled and blinked back tears, but Dr. McMillan answered immediately, out of turn and without hesitation. “As much as I'd respectfully disagree with you, I'd accept your decision, but I'd have to ask you, again and again, until you understood that I'd love your daughter, provide for her, and protect her every day of my life for as long as I live. In any event, I'd also pray that you'd continue to share your experience and knowledge of remedies with me so I have alternatives if my approach is less than successful. I still haven't given up hope that you might accept some of my treatments as less than diabolical, too.”

“I have no problem sharing what I know with you,” Martha insisted, though she ignored his efforts to lure her into embracing much of what she had seen in modern medicine. Instead, she looked directly at her daughter. “Victoria? Are you prepared to answer my question?”

Victoria bowed her head for a moment, and when she looked up again, her eyes were clear and she tilted up her chin ever so slightly. “For my part, I'd be sorely disappointed that we'd
failed to convince you to give us your blessing. Father never spoke about it with me, but I know how much he lost by choosing a profession different from his father's and marrying you against his father's wishes. I'm my father's daughter as much as I am yours. Eventually, I'll do exactly as he did. He followed his heart,” she said. “Please, please don't put me in a position where I have to make the same decision he did.”

This time, Martha failed to hold back her tears, and she did not bother to wipe them away. “I was thinking about your father just before you arrived. He'd be very proud of you, and I believe he'd support your desire to spend your life with this young man,” she said and glanced at Dr. McMillan before addressing Victoria again. “I won't pretend that this marriage won't pose some difficulties for both of us from time to time, but you have my blessing and my permission to marry, assuming you'll both agree to one more thing.”

The young doctor took Victoria's hand and nodded gravely. “What do you want us to do?”

“I want you both to agree to wait awhile before you marry. While I may need some time to consider changes I hope to be making in my own life, especially now that I'm only going to be responsible for myself, it's most important to me to have your brother here when you get married. He hasn't come for a visit yet this year, so I'd like you to write to him with your news and ask him to come home, perhaps at Christmas, and you can be married then. If he can't come until later, I leave it to you to convince him otherwise. Are we agreed?”

Dr. McMillan's grin stretched from ear to ear, but Martha was quite surprised when Victoria flew up from her seat to hug her so hard she had trouble breathing. “Thank you, Mother. Thank you!”

Martha found herself grinning back at both of them, even
more surprised by how easy it was to embrace the happiness for her daughter.

Dr. McMillan stood up, looking a bit helpless as to what to do. Martha urged her daughter back, stood up, and managed to erase her smile and give him a stern look. “I'm entrusting you with a young woman who is very dear and precious to me. Don't disappoint me.”

“I won't, ma'am. Not for a moment.”

Victoria edged between them and hugged them both to her at the same time. “Does this mean it's really, really official?”

“Not quite,” Benjamin said before he took a small object wrapped in pale green velvet from his pocket and handed it to Victoria.

Her fingers shook as she opened it, and her eyes widened when she lifted back the velvet folds, revealing a small gold brooch lined with three small pearls.

“In anticipation of receiving permission to marry my mother, my father designed this brooch and commissioned a jeweler to make it,” he explained. “He gave this to my mother when they became betrothed, but no one, other than my mother, has ever worn it before tonight. It would give me great pleasure if you'd wear it as a sign of my affection for you and my intention to make you my wife.”

Martha took a step back and watched him pin the brooch to the collar on Victoria's dress. She was caught completely by surprise, however, when he turned and pressed a small wrapped object into her hand. When she furrowed her brows, he opened it for her, only to reveal an identical brooch.

“My father actually had the jeweler make two identical brooches, and he gave this one to my grandmother,” he explained. “He asked her to wear it as a sign of his deep respect for her and his pledge to be a good husband to her daughter.
I make the same pledge to you and hope you'll accept it and wear it, just as she did.”

Overwhelmed, Martha was utterly speechless and entirely flustered. She had never, ever owned anything quite as lovely or as expensive as a gold brooch before, but it was the sentiment behind his gift and his interest in continuing a family tradition that wrapped around her heart.

“I'll take your silence as a yes,” he teased. Chuckling, he pinned the brooch to the collar of her cape. “I took the liberty of asking Miss Ivy to bake something special for us tonight, and I asked Mrs. Andrews to set everything out in my office so you wouldn't see it when you arrived. All we need to do is heat up some water for tea. Shall we go downstairs and celebrate?”

Martha sniffed. “Were you that confident you'd prevail?”

He blushed. “Merely hopeful.”

“So hopeful that you included Ivy and Rosalind in your little plot?”

“Neither of them knew what we were going to discuss tonight,” he insisted.

Victoria took his arm and grinned. “I daresay they won't be very surprised. Mrs. Andrews won't find out until morning, but I can't wait to tell Miss Fern and Miss Ivy when we get home tonight. I was just wondering . . . When you said that you needed some time to think about making some changes in your life, Mother, one of those changes wouldn't involve the charming and very handsome former mayor who is entirely smitten with you, would it?”

Martha did not know what annoyed her more, the grin on Victoria's face or the smile on Dr. McMillan's.

“I'm going downstairs to see if everything is ready,” he said. “I'll meet you both in the office,” he suggested, then abruptly left the room with Victoria's question still hanging in the air unanswered.

When Victoria stood there staring at her, Martha felt a hot blush spread across her cheeks and down her throat.

“One of those changes does concern him, doesn't it!” Victoria exclaimed. “Has Mr. Dillon proposed? Of course he has,” she quipped, answering her own question. “Did you say yes? You should have said yes. Please tell me you said yes!”