The Midwife. Carolyn Davidson

time, only ten days hence, when they would marry. Perhaps she needed other things, new dresses maybe. With that thought in mind, he stepped closer to where she stood. “Will you go with me to Nielsen’s store next week, before the wedding?” he asked. “Whatever you need…I’ll pay for it.”

      Her eyes widened at his words, and he watched as her chin tipped upward. A stubborn woman, if he knew anything about it. She would not take well to his ways, perhaps. There would have to be a time of building bridges between them.

      “I don’t think so.” Her full, lush lips separated, opening as she spoke her denial of his offer. And then, from within, her tongue appeared, touching lightly against her top lip as he watched. The sight fascinated him, that tiny bit of flesh leaving a speck of moisture on her lip, then retreating within her mouth.

      The urge to step closer to her assailed him and he fisted his hands at his sides, aware of a heated response deep within his belly. Such foolishness! She was a good woman with a clean reputation, and surely that was what he sought.

      “I will provide my own necessities,” she said primly, jarring him from his contemplation.

      “I would be pleased to buy you a dress for our wedding, Leah,” he said quietly. “And shoes, and whatever else you need.”

      She shook her head. “No. I have money in the bank. I’ll not come to your house a pauper, Mr. Lundstrom. I only need a bedroom with a chest of drawers for my belongings and hooks on the wall for my dresses.”

      He nodded, strangely pleased by her prideful behavior. She would serve him well. “I’ll be here on Sunday,” he said, his eyes scanning her again. She’d stepped back from him, and now her hands were clasped at her waist, and she looked the very picture of docile, dutiful womanhood.

      Somehow, he doubted the veracity of that impression.

      

      “But if you marry that Lundstrom fella, who will do my washing?” Brian Havelock stood at Leah’s door, bundle of laundry in his hands, and uttered his query with unknowing appeal. To Leah’s eye, he was a boy still. Had she been ten years younger, she might have bent forward and planted a kiss on his rosy cheek. Or ten years older, she amended.

      “You know I depend on you, Leah,” he said piteously, his blue eyes sad beneath lowered brows.

      “I’m sure Mrs. Pringle will be happy to take you on as a customer, Brian,” she said briskly, holding her fingers closed around the coins he had pressed into her palm.

      “You’re wasting yourself on that man, Leah,” he told her firmly, stepping closer. “I’d make you a good husband. I have a steady job at the sawmill, and my house is almost built.”

      Leah stepped back from him, easing inside the door into her parlor. Her voice was firm as she dashed his hopes although a twinge of pity nudged her tender heart. “I’m sorry, Brian. I told you last winter, I’m too old for you.”

      He opened his mouth to speak and she waved him to silence. “Never mind! I’m set on the matter. I will marry Mr. Lundstrom on Saturday next. I’ll do your shirts on Monday, and that’s the last time.”

      Her would-be suitor stepped backward, nearly falling from the porch as he nodded his agreement. “Yes, I understand.” Turning from her, he trudged up the path to her gate and she watched him go.

      He would make a fine man for the right woman someday, she thought. Young and still wet behind the ears, he was like a puppy, all rosy cheeked and almost panting in his eagerness to please. Kirsten Andersen had missed a good bet when she married that man from the next county.

      Swooping down to Karen’s basket, Leah lifted the baby high in the air, turning in a slow circle as she parodied a waltz across the floor. “You will live with your papa soon, little bird,” she sang tunelessly.

      “And you, too,” came a clear, youthful reply from outside the screen door.

      Leah whirled to face the newcomer. “Ah, Kristofer! You startled me. I didn’t see you coming.”

      The boy swung the door wide and faced Leah from across the parlor. “Are you glad you’re coming to live with us?” he asked hopefully.

      “Oh, yes,” she reassured him readily. “We’ll have a good time, Kristofer. You and Karen and I. We’ll pick flowers in the meadow, and you can help me carry in the milk from the barn and sort out the eggs for market.”

      “Don’t you like to go hunting?” the boy asked, his mouth pursing as if he scorned the choices he’d been offered.

      Leah shook her head. “I could never find it in me to kill a living thing,” she admitted.

      “Hunting is different,” Kristofer said patiently. “You only kill what you’re going to eat, my pa says. Unless it’s rats or rattlers.”

      Leah shivered. “Do you have a lot of those on your farm?”

      He shrugged. “Once in a while.”

      Leah hugged the baby to her and then offered her to the boy who had come on such a transparent mission. “Did you want to see Karen?”

      His eyes lit with a pale glow, silvery yet blue, like his father’s. Leah handed him the baby, still holding the infant’s weight as Kris made his way to the rocking chair.

      “Sit, now,” she said quietly, knowing that the two would speak their own language for several minutes. Kristofer whispered words Leah could not understand and the baby smiled and chortled her delight at the brother who doted on her.

      “Leah?” From the porch, her third visitor in ten minutes begged admission. “Are you busy?”

      “Come in, Eva. I’m just ready to put my supper in the oven.” Leah smiled at the woman who hurried through the door, then cast an admonishing look at Kristofer. “Watch that Karen doesn’t get away from you.”

      “No, ma’am, she won’t,” he answered patiently, flashing her a smile.

      “You got a letter,” Eva said quietly. “The first one you’ve had since you’ve been here, Leah. I hope it isn’t anything bad.”

      Pulling the envelope from her pocket, Eva offered it to her friend and watched worriedly as Leah inspected the writing, then the stamp, then the back of the envelope, with care. Leah’s long, slender fingers shaped the rectangle, brushing the edges as she straightened out a wrinkle in one corner.

      “Aren’t you going to open it?” Eva’s curiosity was evident, but Leah forgave it without thinking, knowing that the woman’s concern was foremost.

      “Yes, I suppose I am,” she announced, as if a momentous decision had been made. Her fingers edged beneath the flap carefully and she lifted it to expose the letter within. Written on onionskin paper, it was filled from top to bottom with a scrawling, ink-blotted message.

      Leah turned it in her hand, glancing down at the bottom of the page, to first identify the sender, before reading the script. “Anna Powell,” she whispered, her voice tinged with something akin to fear. Her eyes flew to the top of the page and she devoured the words, unaware of the breath she held within her lungs. Not until her head swam and spots appeared before her eyes did she release the soft puffs of air she had held within her. Her hand reached for a kitchen chair and she settled on it abruptly.

      “Leah! Are you all right?” Eva knelt before her, eyes filled with concern, her hands gripping Leah’s wrists.

      “Yes…yes, of course.” Leah smoothed her tongue over lips gone dry and attempted a smile. “It’s just a letter from a woman I knew, back in…back where I come from.”

      She tipped her head to one side, blinking away the dizziness as she caught her breath. “She says that a friend has been looking for me. I’ll have to let her know where I am, won’t I?” Her smile was trembling, but she loosened Eva’s grip upon her wrists, clasping her friend’s fingers tightly.

      “You looked so strange