Carolyn Davidson - The Midwife

“Miss Leah?” Kristofer’s small face held a frown. “I have to go home now. Pa will be waiting for me at the store. I told him I’d ride home on the wagon with him.”

Leah nodded, rising from her chair to take the baby from the boy’s embrace. “I’ll see you again,” she said lightly.

“Tomorrow. I’ll be here tomorrow. My pa says I mustn’t get in your way or be a bother, Miss Leah. You must let me know if it’s not conven…” He hesitated, as if he sought the word his father had used.

“Convenient? It’s always convenient for you to stop by, Kris,” she said easily, following him to the front door. Her hand rested on his shoulder for just a second as she stood beside him. He hesitated there, his face soft with yearning as he stood on tiptoe to press his lips against the brow of the baby Leah held.

And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as he jumped from the porch, ignoring the steps, and ran to the gate. He half turned, lifting a hand in farewell as he opened the gate and crossed the street to make his way toward the grocery store.

Leah watched as he picked up a stone, examined it and stuck it in his pocket. She smiled, then walked back across the parlor and into her kitchen, bouncing the baby as she walked.

“He’ll be back tomorrow, Karen. And on Sunday, your papa will be here to see you.” It would be three days until Sunday. Three long days.

The spring was unusually warm for Minnesota. All the farmers predicted an early cutting of hay. By the end of May the crops were coming up in the fields, and the cows and horses in the pastures were accompanied by their own yield of calves and colts. The farmers’ wives tended clutches of newly hatched chicks, gathering them into the henhouses at night lest the cool air should creep beneath their mothers’ hovering wings and kill the youngsters.

Leah stepped into the hubbub of activity in the general store on a Monday morning in early June, Karen Lundstrom on her shoulder. Around her, the local ladies were catching up on gossip, most of them repeating stories heard at Sunday church.

“Ah, Mrs. Gunderson, here with the little one this morning,” Hazel Nielsen called out. “Bonnie, come see your friend,” she said, moving aside the curtain that led to the storeroom.

Eyes swung in Leah’s direction, and she found a smile for the eager ladies who hovered around her like bees surrounding a hive.

“How is the baby doing?” Lula Dunbar asked, her forefinger nudging at a dimpled elbow. “Look how blue her eyes are, just like her mama’s were.” She dropped her voice in deference to the dead mother. “Not pure ice like her pa’s, thank the good Lord. He’s a cold man, that one.”

Leah swallowed a retort and turned to listen to Eva Landers, the town’s postmistress, who had left her desk in the corner of the store, where she had been sorting the day’s mail.

“Let me see that little girl. What a darling she is!” Eva’s long, slender fingers threaded through Karen’s hair with a gentle touch, and Leah halted her progress through the store. “Don’t pay any mind to Lula Dunbar,” Eva whispered next to Leah’s ear. “She hasn’t said anything nice about a man since the day she married Hobart.”

Leah smothered a laugh. Eva was a kindly woman, married to the undertaker, who doubled as the town’s cabinetmaker. It was handy, being accomplished at woodworking, when you were the one in charge of providing caskets for the occasional burial in town. Joseph was a sturdy man, solemn, as befitted his occupation, and Leah had often wondered how he managed to catch a joyous woman like Eva.

“I’ll stop by for tea, if I may, later this afternoon,” Eva suggested brightly.

Leah nodded eagerly. Visitors were frequent but usually bearing some cut needing stitching or seeking a poultice or remedy for the ills of another. Her practice had expanded since the winter months, ever since the Lundstrom baby had been hers to care for. As if every woman in town wanted a peek at the child, Leah had been inundated with requests for cough syrup or chest rub.

“Leah! It’s good to see you.” Bonnie Nielsen came from the stockroom, brushing at dust on her sleeve as she passed her mother behind the counter. “What can I get for you today?”

Leah groped in her dress pocket for the list she’d made up at breakfast this morning. “Not too much, Bonnie. Are there any early peas, yet?”

Bonnie nodded. “Old Mrs. Havelock planted some next to the house where they get the morning sun, and she covered them at night so they wouldn’t freeze last month. She brought me a peck of them this morning.”

“I’ll take a pound, if you can spare them,” Leah said quickly, aware of the treat she’d been offered. “How are the potatoes?”

“Pretty much shriveled up, I’m afraid,” Bonnie answered. “I’ll see what I can find for you.”

“If you need potatoes, you need only ask, Mrs. Gunderson,” a male voice said from behind her. A hush fell over the store as Gar Lundstrom stated his offer, and Leah pasted a smile on her face before she turned to face him.

“I didn’t see you in the store, Mr. Lundstrom,” she said brightly.

“I just came in. Just in time to hear you ask about potatoes. I have plenty left in the dugout. I’ll bring you some tomorrow.”

She shook her head quickly. “Oh, you mustn’t bother. Just bring them to me on Sunday when you come to see the baby.” Leah felt a flush climb her cheeks as she became aware of the hush within the store as the women moved closer, the better to hear the words she spoke.

Garlan Lundstrom shifted uncomfortably, as if he had only now become aware of the several women who surrounded him. “Well, maybe I can hang a bag over my boy’s horse when he rides to school tomorrow. He can bring them to you.”

Leah nodded. “That would be wonderful. I’ll pay you for them when I see you next.”

His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed at her words. “You will feed my child with them, no?”

Leah swallowed, unwilling to get into a confrontation in the middle of the store. “Yes, certainly,” she agreed.

“Then you don’t need to pay me.” His gaze scanned her, softening only when he smiled at his daughter. “Give the child to me,” he ordered gruffly, holding out his arms. “I’ll carry her to your house and wait for you there.”

Leah gave over the child, nodding her thanks as Gar turned from her to leave the store. Karen was growing by leaps and bounds, her small, round body weighing heavily after a time in Leah’s arms.

The store buzzed with half a dozen voices as the tall Swede left, the door closing with a bang behind him. “He’s a stern one,” Lula Dunbar said with a sniff, peering at Leah over her glasses. “You’ll do well to be rid of him once he finds someone to live out there and tend those children and his house for him. Though I don’t know where he’s going to look next. I declare he’s asked every old maid and widow in the county.”

Leah shrugged. “I’m in no hurry to have him take the baby. She’s good company.”

Bonnie called her name, and Leah turned gladly to heed her questions. “Do you want green tea today? We just got in a new shipment. And how about fresh baking powder? We’ve been out for almost a week, and I remember you asked for a tin last Friday.”

“Yes and yes,” Leah said with a smile. “Green tea is good for the stomach, and after today—” she nodded surreptitiously at the black-clad figure of Lula Dunbar “—I’ll need something soothing to drink, I believe.”

Bonnie nodded, then spoke in an undertone. “Everyone’s thinking the only way Gar Lundstrom will find help out there will be to marry someone.” Her voice was wistful.

Leah blinked. “Marry? You think he’s going to get married?” she whispered. “It’s only been five months since…” She still had trouble speaking the words.