Patricia Forsythe - At Odds With The Midwife

He and Gemma had been about ten years old. She had gushed about the baby raccoon she’d found abandoned and taken home. He wanted to see it. His mother never allowed any pets, not even a goldfish.

At the Whitmires’, he’d been astounded by the variety of animals in her personal menagerie. Her father, Wolfchild—Nathan recalled snickering whenever he heard that name—had built all the pens and cages. He had glowed with pride as Gemma had shown the animals. There had been several puppies and dogs, abandoned on the road outside the campground, and cats and kittens left behind. The citizens of Reston County had quickly figured out that the Whitmire family were pushovers when it came to unwanted animals. It was public knowledge that Gemma would find good homes for all of them.

There had also been a fawn wounded by an arrow, several birds with broken wings or legs, along with the baby raccoon, who had been darned cute. They’d all needed rescuing and Gemma had...

Nathan sat up so suddenly, many people in the audience stared at him.

Did Gemma think he needed rescuing like some wounded animal? His gaze went straight to her and she met his eyes with a questioning look.

Sitting back, he crossed his arms over his chest. She was wrong, and he would make that clear the first chance he got. But right now, he had to deal with the rest of the town.

He understood why the people of Reston were mad at his father. He was, too. He had tried to find George, tried to figure out where he’d disappeared to along with the money. What he’d told the audience at this meeting was true. He’d never known the exact amount because he didn’t want to know how great a larceny his father had committed. He’d never known that George had a gambling problem that had gotten completely out of hand when Mandy, and then Nate’s mother, died. Nate admitted, to his shame, that he hadn’t known what his father was capable of because he hadn’t really known his father. All he’d known was that George spent long hours at work and never took a vacation—rarely a day off. Now Nate knew why. It was called cooking the books and his dad was a master chef.

The county sheriff and some state investigative agencies had searched for George and had tracked him to Las Vegas, but the leads had petered out. They speculated that he’d changed his name and obtained false identification. They would wait until he resurfaced—but that hadn’t happened in all of these years.

Wherever George was, he had almost certainly gambled all that money away. If he’d been a lucky gambler, he probably wouldn’t have needed to steal in the first place.

Harley returned to the podium and asked, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Of course they did and the next hour was spent in heated discussions about money, personnel, building and equipment upgrades, contract bids for the work, and a dozen other issues. The county supervisors, city manager and banker all answered questions. Finally, someone brought up the other issue Nate had been dreading.

“What about the birthing center?”

* * *

HARLEY’S GAZE WENT directly to Nate. Gemma watched consternation flit across his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to answer that question.

“Dr. Smith, how will the birthing center be involved with the hospital?” Harley asked.

“The same as with any other hospital. When complications occur, the mother will be transferred to the hospital—”

“Although such occurrences are rare,” Gemma broke in, springing to her feet. She hurried up the stairs and across the stage to the podium. Swinging in beside Nate, she eased Harley aside, confiscated the microphone and gave a bright smile as she said, “With every mother and baby, our goal is to make sure they receive the best care possible. We ensure this by frequent checkups and careful monitoring throughout the pregnancy, along with a comprehensive birth plan and education.” She cast a quick glance at Nate. “As you probably know, in Oklahoma, birthing centers can only deal with low-risk pregnancies. We will make every effort to guarantee that a low-risk pregnancy stays that way. We will answer any and all questions the parents may have, and we’ll make it as safe and as memorable as possible. After all, birth is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” she concluded to chuckles from the audience.

Nate retook the microphone and kept his gaze on Gemma as he said, “The birthing center will be monitored by the medical staff at Reston County Hospital.”

“Well, doesn’t Reston County Hospital have to actually open first?” Gemma asked sweetly, leaning in and raising her voice. “The Sunshine Birthing Center will be open within a few weeks. Until Reston Hospital reopens, we’ll transport patients to the hospital in Toncaville if necessary, and our medical director will be one of their physicians. We’ll hold an open house so everyone can visit our facility and if we have any expectant mothers—and if I remember correctly, there are always expectant mothers around here—please feel free to call and make an appointment. Even if you ultimately choose not to use our services, we’re happy to talk to anyone.” She gave the center’s phone number and as she did, Nathan clenched his jaw.

Belatedly seeming to sense the tension, the mayor stepped in between Gemma and Nathan. “Um, that’s all the time we have right now, folks. I’m sure you’ll have more questions. Call my office and we’ll try to help you as best we can.”

Gemma was disappointed in Nate’s reaction, although she didn’t know why it surprised her. She was ready to leave, to rejoin Carly and Lisa, but she found herself gathered into a hug. She looked up into Frances Sanderson’s smiling face.

Laughing, Gemma returned the hug.

“Gemma, we’re so happy to see you back in Reston, at last,” Frances said. Curvaceous and beautiful with shoulder-length silver hair, she was dressed in a crisp white shirt, black jeans and chunky turquoise jewelry.

“It’s only because of you that I’m here.”

“It’s only because of you that we have a healthy grandson,” Frances countered. She glanced up when Nathan paused beside them and treated him to one of her sparkling smiles. “Dr. Smith, you’re very fortunate to be able to work with Gemma.”

Nathan looked at her, then at Gemma, who hid a smile. He probably didn’t know Frances very well and wasn’t aware that she rarely acknowledged negative situations, choosing instead to see the world through rose-colored glasses.

“Um, yes,” he agreed, but his dark eyes said something completely different.

“Tom and I are having our annual Memorial Day picnic at our place and we’ve invited all the hospital and birthing-center donors and potential donors. Of course, we want you to come. We intend to wring every last cent out of them and having you there will make us look legitimate.” She told them the time, wiggled her fingers at the two of them and went to rejoin her husband.

Maybe Frances was more shrewd than she appeared.

“The Sandersons are contributing to the birthing center?” Nathan asked, his gaze following Frances as she charmed her way, one by one, through the people on the stage. Tom followed in her wake, shaking hands and exchanging a few words with everyone. Gemma knew that was one of the reasons the two of them were so successful—they worked as a team.

“So far they’re the major contributors.”

“Because you saved their grandson?”

Gemma crossed her arms at her waist and tilted her head to the side as she considered him. “Careful, Nathan, your skepticism is showing. I am a trained and experienced midwife.” She couldn’t control the testiness in her voice.

“So you keep telling me.” He glanced away, then back again. “Thanks for shutting down Cole.” The words came out as if they were dragged from him. He turned away, grabbed his briefcase and hurried from the stage.