Carolyn Davidson - The Midwife

“Let me think about it, Mr. Lundstrom,” she said, proud of the steady quality of her words.

He turned to place Karen in her basket, his hands reluctant as he slipped them from her body. Then he faced Leah and offered her his hand, waiting till she met it with her own.

His palm was broad, warm and strong. His fingers enclosed hers in a firm grip. Not a handshake as men exchanged, but rather a clasping of hands, as if they sealed a bargain between them. Leah felt her fingers soak up the warmth of his, felt the pulsing of his heartbeat as her middle finger touched his wrist. The heat of his flesh encompassed her palm, spreading to her forearm and up to her shoulder. It met the frantic beat of her heart, and she knew a moment’s panic as that organ seemed to swell within her breast.

“I will call on you tomorrow, Leah,” he said, his words almost harsh in their intensity. She met his gaze as her hand slipped from his grasp, and she noted a flicker of emotion there. As surely as her name was Leah Gunderson, she knew that Garlan Lundstrom held something from her. He was not so forbidding suddenly, not so reserved.

“Bring the potatoes then,” she said pertly, and was not surprised when the flicker became a flame and his eyes warmed for a moment.

“Yes, I’ll do that.” His mouth was firm, his lips thinning as though he forbade them to speak further. He then turned from her and walked to the front door.

“I will come for my answer tomorrow afternoon.” With a nod of his head, which caused a lock of golden hair to brush against his forehead, he was gone.

Leah’s fingers itched to brush that errant lock back into place and she stifled the urge, clenching her hands at her waist as he turned back to look at her from the bottom of the porch steps.

“He doesn’t want a wife,” she muttered to herself. “He wants a housekeeper and someone to watch his children.” Her skirts swished around her ankles as she spun in place and marched back into the kitchen.

From the laundry basket, a squeal of delight greeted her, and Karen’s pudgy fingers waved a distracted welcome as she clutched a string of thread spools in one hand. As always, Leah’s heart melted at the sight, and she moved across the floor and knelt by the wicker basket.

“You are so tempting, sweet one,” she said, twining her fingers in the silky locks of hair that covered the baby’s head. “Between you and your brother, you are enough to steal my heart.”

The baby gurgled a response, and Leah bent to kiss the crown of her head. She rose, stepping to the sink to wash her hands before she got out her teapot for the promised visit from Eva Landers. The sun was almost blinding, brilliant in a vibrantly blue sky, and she blinked, shaking her head against the vision that rose in her mind.

He was there, as vivid as if he stood before her. Gar Lundstrom, tall and golden haired, a man of the earth, solid and dependable. A man who still despised her.

A man who could steal not only her heart, but her soul as well.

“I will marry you, Garlan Lundstrom.” Leah spoke the words to her mirror and watched as a pink flush rose from her exposed throat to cover her cheeks. She peered closely into the looking glass, willing away the trembling of her hands as her fingers worked the top button of her dress into its buttonhole.

“I’ll marry you, Gar.” There, that was better. More casually spoken, more sincere. Her eyelids fluttered, and she leaned closer to seek the blue depths, groaning at the sparkle within. The man would think her dotty! This was to be a business arrangement, if she had heard him right. And now she blushed and simpered like a schoolgirl.

A sharp rap at the screen door broke her concentration, and she turned from the oval mirror that hung over her chest of drawers. At least he would not marry an ugly woman, she decided, and then chastised herself for vanity’s sake. Her skin was decent, her eyes a clear blue and her nose was only a trifle too long. Her mother had told her that her stubborn chin was troublesome, but then, that doggedness had stood her in good stead more than once.

The rapping increased, and Karen’s squeals of joy signified the sighting of her father through the mesh screening. “Leah! Are you there?” Gar Lundstrom’s voice was strident, and without awaiting her reply, he opened the door and entered her parlor.

She hurried to greet him. “I’m here,” she said, her breathing restricted by the rapid beating of her heart.

He looked up at her from his daughter’s side. Karen was clutching the edge of the basket, leaning toward her father, and Leah was struck by the babe’s fickle streak. Once Gar Lundstrom walked in that door, the rest of Karen’s world ceased to exist. Her lashes fluttered, her mouth cooed soft phrases that might sound like so much babbling to another, but to the man who watched her so dotingly, she was obviously sheer perfection. And in her innocence, she returned his regard a hundredfold.

Now he squatted beside her, one hand touching the crown of gold that curled in a silken cap over her perfect head. “I thought I heard you speaking, Leah. Is there someone here with you?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m alone. I find myself talking to Karen when I’m out of the room. It pleases her.” She held back a smile. Practicing her acceptance of his proposal would certainly please Garlan Lundstrom should he know. It would give him an edge she could not afford to allow. Better that she hold an upper hand in this.

He rose easily to his feet, and Karen let forth a blast of sound that brought a wide grin to his mouth. “Such lungs, little girl. You put your brother to shame!” He leaned over her and extended his hand. “Hush now. I must speak to your friend, Mrs. Gunderson.”

As if she understood, Karen sniffed and rubbed one tight fist against her eye, then smiled with delight.

“She’s flirting with you,” Leah said softly, totally taken with the child.

“And you?” he asked. “Do I get a smile from the Widow Gunderson today? Am I to hear an answer this morning?”

Such levity was almost unknown from the man who stood before her, and Leah’s tongue searched for a reply as she scanned his handsome features. Her head nodded after a moment and she shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her apron.

“Yes, I’ve thought about your offer, Mr. Lundstrom. I’m willing to marry you. It would be beneficial for me.”

“And for me,” he conceded. His gaze fell to the baby in the basket at his feet. “Not to mention my daughter. Kristofer, by the way, is waiting outside to hear your answer. He’s very anxious, Leah. You’ve quite a champion in my son.” The smile flashed again. “He likes your cookies.”

“He’s a wonderful boy.” Such inane words they shared, she thought. Speaking of children and a beneficial relationship, when all she wanted to hear was that she would finally be appreciated as a woman. And now she hadn’t even put to use all the posturing she had practiced before her mirror.

“Saturday next would work well for me. Do you have any objection?” Gar asked, his gaze firm on Leah’s face.

She nodded. “I can be ready by then. I’ll let my bachelors know. Mr. Dunbar will have to make other arrangements for the hotel linens, unless he wants to bring them out to your farm, and I doubt he’d be willing to do that.”

Gar shook his head. “You will find plenty to do there. Don’t even think about washing for the hotel. You’ve done your last laundry for the town bachelors, too, Leah.” His words were firm, decisive and not altogether welcome to her ears. Not that she craved the scrub board, but it was a decision she would have preferred to make on her own.

Her chin tilted and she almost smiled, recognizing the stubborn stance she was about to take. “I’ll let my clients know, but I have time enough and to spare for the rest of this week and next to earn the extra money, Mr. Lundstrom.”