The Midwife's Tale (20 page)

B
eneath the very roof that had provided a showcase for yesterday’s prank, seven somber boys stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of a jury of the town’s leading citizens and faced a crowd of townspeople that seemed unnaturally quiet.

Perhaps, Martha mused, the rainy weather had dampened the embers of their discontent. Curious glances and murmurs rippled through the audience when she entered the market with their mayor, much as she had anticipated. Most, she hoped, expressed excitement and relief that the public renunciation of the prank and the boys’ punishment was close at hand, but she had lived in this town for too long not to know many of the whispers duly noted that the recently returned Widow Cade had been escorted to the event by widower Thomas Dillon.

While Thomas briefly conferred with the other men, she caught Olympia Hampton’s worried gaze as she stood at the opposite end of their line and offered a smile of encouragement.

The smile she received in return was tenuous, and her stomach began to churn with worry. She did not know exactly how
the boys would be punished any more than she could predict the townspeople’s reaction to that punishment, but she trusted Thomas to be as fair and evenhanded today as he had proven to be all the years she had known him.

She could only pray the rest of the folks would be swayed by his hard-won reputation as well and begin to accept the academy. If not, Reverend Hampton might very well have to abandon his efforts here and move elsewhere to continue his ministry. In either case, Dr. McMillan’s pride would have been properly avenged; in fact, he would probably find that the prank itself had opened more than a few doors of folks who wanted to rehash the whole scenario with him, creating a bond between them that would further his standing in the community as well as his career.

How the doctor handled himself today would also provide a glimpse of his character for all of them, and she was probably as anxious as the boys in front of her to have this unusual event begin.

Lost to her myriad concerns, she was startled when Thomas called the increasingly restless crowd to order.

“My friends and neighbors, I’m grateful to all of you for venturing out on such a miserable day.”

Nods and a few grumbles.

He smiled. “Reverend Hampton asked for a moment of your time before we hear from the boys involved in yesterday’s prank.”

Without waiting for any further introduction, Reverend Hampton stepped forward, closed the distance between himself and his charges, and stood directly behind the two boys in the center.

From where she stood, Martha had a side view of his face. His expression softened from stern to repentant. “We haven’t met many of you until today, and I’m deeply sorrowed that this occasion has brought us together. The boys’ prank was meant
as that—a childish prank—but I believe they now understand how they put all of you in danger by having made it difficult, if not impossible, for Dr. McMillan to have responded to a call for help should any one of you have taken ill during the night. They were also disrespectful to a man who has come to their community to help others, not be subjected to ridicule.”

He paused and scanned the crowd. “As guardian and teacher for the boys you see in front of me, I hold myself responsible for their misadventure yesterday, but when the good Lord called me to this task, I knew the journey would be as trying as it would be rewarding, a reality perhaps you can understand as you raise your own children.”

A few understanding glances. Only a few.

He shook his head. “Pride can be a terrible, sinful curse. Each time we succeed in any of our endeavors, we unwittingly open the doors to our souls, and before we know it, pride slips in and convinces us we are men of righteousness and distinction. We are quick to judge others when they stumble and fall. We judge them as sinners who need God’s grace and forgiveness, so we give them ours because we don’t need either. Or so we think . . . until we stumble and fall ourselves. Once glorious and boastful, we’re embarrassed and shamed because our pride is pricked and our reputation tainted.”

He bowed his head for a moment, then gazed once again at the crowd. “I stand before you, my dear brothers and sisters in faith, both embarrassed and ashamed by my boys’ behavior. My reputation as a man, as well as a man of the cloth, is duly stained. I ask for your understanding . . . and your forgiveness . . . along with your prayers that I might be given the grace to be a better teacher to these boys and that I might guide them on the path of righteousness as I continue to answer His call and serve Him through these boys—His creations, His joy, and His beloved.”

Martha watched as men and women turned to one another. Their murmurs grew to heated whispers, but no one openly challenged the minister’s message.

Touched by the man’s eloquence, Martha glanced beyond the gathering at the gentle rain now falling, at the horses and wagons that surrounded them, at the familiar market itself. Somehow, Reverend Hampton had turned their ordinary market into a church without walls, a speech of apology into a sermon, and a gathering of discontented townspeople into a congregation.

And it wasn’t even meeting day.

He had a true gift for preaching, a gift that easily could have been misused had it been given to a man with chicanery or evil in his heart instead of faith and goodness.

“If you please. If you please,” he repeated, and eventually silenced the crowd by waving his hands up and down. “The boys have something to say to you all—and to Dr. McMillan, of course.”

Given the boys’ ages, which ranged from eight to about twelve, not a few expressions in the crowd filled with a combination of doubt and wonder. That mere boys could have taken the carriage apart, hauled it to the roof, and reassembled it amazed almost everyone in town. It was a task some of the able-bodied men present would find too great a challenge. The boys’ accounting, however, soon erased all doubt and further enhanced their reputation as street urchins capable of almost anything.

Reverend Hampton tapped the tallest boy on the shoulder. The boy, whom she recognized to be P. J., took two steps forward and straightened his shoulders.

Martha could not see the boy’s face at all and strained forward. She expected a rather meek apology, but when he spoke, his voice rang sure and clear.

“My name is Peter Jacob Yates. P. J. The prank was all my idea, and I’m very sorry. I won’t do nothin’ like that again.” He turned, marched stiffly to Dr. McMillan, and extended his hand.

Now that Martha had a full view of his face, she could see his expression was properly remorseful.

“I apologize, sir.”

Dr. McMillan shook the boy’s hand and nodded. “Accepted.”

When P. J. returned to his place in line, Reverend Hampton tapped another boy, who followed P. J.’s lead, and then another boy, until a full accounting had been made describing each boy’s role in the affair.

Not a single boy had been spared, including Will, who had held the ladder and confessed last. When he turned from Dr. McMillan and locked his gaze with Martha’s, she smiled approvingly, although she detected a glimmer of devilment in his eyes that his punishment today had not extinguished.

With all the confessions now given, the mood of the crowd had changed. The hardened expressions, filled with fear and scorn on some faces, told Martha the minister had been right. Some people would never accept these boys. But most of the people in the gathering appeared to be impressed by the boys’ demeanor and their willingness to confess to their role in the prank before them all.

Until the minister changed the atmosphere once again. At his whispered command, the boys took to the crowd. They introduced themselves again and apologized, individually, to every adult member in the audience. The minister followed suit, shaking hands with the men and women and giving every child present a pat on the head.

Before her very eyes, the somber event that had come to resemble Sunday meeting became as animated as a revival. The atmosphere was charged with energy—positive energy that
renewed her faith in humankind in general and in her friends and neighbors in particular.

When the boys finished and returned to their places, Reverend Hampton once again stood behind them. The townspeople edged closer, and Thomas nodded to the doctor.

Dr. McMillan stepped forward. He kept his back as straight as a broom handle and his expression sober. The only visible sign he was unnerved was the line of perspiration dotting his forehead and the opening and closing of his fists.

As he began to speak, a young boy Martha thought might be Jeremy Farnsworth rushed up to Thomas. The mayor leaned down, listened to what the lad had to say, and followed him outside. Unfortunately, with Dr. McMillan speaking, she was not able to hear what Jeremy had said.

“. . . and now, as you all witnessed, the boys have confessed and apologized to all of you and to me.” He mopped his brow. “Their punishment should be fair and equal to the distress and inconvenience they have caused.”

Martha’s heart began to pound as she contemplated what further punishment, beyond the humiliation of a public confession and apology, might be given. More particularly, she worried Dr. McMillan might actually want to use a strap or a paddle to give each of the boys a solid whipping. Some members of the crowd clearly anticipated the same, judging by the gleam she saw in some men’s eyes and the number of children who edged closer to their mothers’ sides and clung to their hands or their skirts. Others frowned, clearly satisfied with the punishment already given.

“I’ve discussed the boys’ punishment with most of the good people standing behind me. I’m a man dedicated to easing pain and suffering, not deliberately inflicting it.” He clenched his fists and held them against the sides of his trousers. “I’ve agreed . . .
that is, I’ve decided that to have the boys apologize, as they’ve already done, and reassemble the carriage, in full view of everyone here, would be . . . will be satisfactory punishment, provided they keep their word never to cause such trouble again.”

He nodded over his shoulder. “We’ll all be staying to watch, and I invite you to do the same.”

Like a sun slowly struggling through stubborn clouds, the applause began with several women, then spread, becoming loud enough to overwhelm a mere whisper of jeers and taunts directed at the boys.

With no physical punishment to be delivered, relief washed over her, and Martha realized how stiff she had been holding herself.

Reverend Hampton stood on the sidelines while P. J. barked orders to the other boys. The audience chatted and watched with both awe and amusement as the boys struggled with the frame of the carriage and the sundry parts. Some of the parts were either too bulky or too heavy for some of the boys, but Reverend Hampton did not lend a hand. Harold Givens, a gunsmith with several sons of his own, stepped from the crowd to give the boys a hand. His neighbor, Lars Hoffbrauer, quickly joined them, inspiring a number of men, along with their sons, to do the same.

Before long, the carriage came to life, and the air fairly rippled with the sounds of laughter and good cheer, a transformation just short of miraculous. Awed, Martha picked up the baskets Thomas had carried for her and worked her way behind the assembled dignitaries to reach Olympia Hampton.

“Just a little something for your larder,” she explained as she handed over the first basket. “My rewards are always unpredictable. Since we have more than we need right now, even for the tavern, I thought . . . well, it’s sinful to waste.”

She held out the second basket, which was much lighter. “Sweet breads from the confectionery. Fern and Ivy wanted you to know . . .” She paused, reluctant to speak for them. “They’re hoping you’ll stop to see them the next time you come to town.”

The older woman’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t tell you how much I . . . we appreciate your kindness last night, Widow Cade, and now this . . .”

Martha pressed Olympia’s hand around the basket handle. “Please. If we’re going to be friends, you should call me Martha.”

“Friends,” she murmured. “Then you must call me Olympia.” She glanced at the center of the market, where townspeople worked alongside her husband and her charges. “We’ll never forget what happened here today. I doubt the boys will, either.”

Before Martha could respond, Thomas joined them. Given the jovial atmosphere, his expression was oddly sober. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Olympia murmured.

He looked directly at Martha. “Daniel Finch came looking for you. Mrs. Seymour sent him. Adelaide seems to be having some difficulties. He wanted to know if you would come to see her.”

Martha’s heart began to race as fast as her mind could conjure up a number of problems serious enough to call her back to her patient. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me, Olympia, I need to get back to the tavern to get my bag.”

Thomas shook his head. “No need. I knew you’d want to leave right away so I sent Daniel to the tavern to collect it. It’s already in my buggy, which is just outside. Daniel’s already left for home.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Your buggy?”

“It’s pouring rain,” he argued as he guided her past the rest of the men to his buggy.

Martha locked her knees together and braced her feet. Inde
pendence stiffened her spine. “I don’t need a buggy to get to my patients. I have Grace and a perfectly fine cape to keep me dry.”

He lifted the mud-splattered hem of her gown and wrung it out. “That’s not dry, is it? And even if it were, it would be soaked before you got to Falls Road. By the time you got to Adelaide, you’d be sopping wet and chilled to the bone, which wouldn’t help your patient, now, would it?”

“No,” she admitted. “It wouldn’t, but I’ve managed to travel in worse weather on my own for nearly ten years now. I don’t need your help, Thomas. Truly.”

His gaze softened. “No, you don’t, but I . . . I need to give it. Truly.”

She stared into his eyes and found no hint of guile, only sincerity and an earnestness that nudged the window in her heart open again. Beyond the promise of passion that beckoned in his eyes, she saw the buds of mutual need and respect that had never been there before. She saw him now not as a youthful, inexperienced man, but a man tempered by life, a man whose body and spirit had grown in both faith and character. A man who could come dangerously close to forcing her to confront her true feelings for him—if she did not carefully guard herself against his charm.