Charity's Burden Read online

  “Midwife Carroll, I need to talk to you. Come out, will you?” He was just as loud and angry-looking as he’d been earlier in the day. I clucked to Peaches to pick up her speed before he saw me and we drove on by. I wasn’t going home until others were about. But where to now? And what if Joey was still there when the children arrived home from school? It was between two thirty and three o’clock now and they would be home by four, with Faith arriving about that time, too. She was a wise young woman, but she was only eighteen. I’d have to return before the family did. If we all arrived at the same time, we’d have safety in numbers.

  Before this week I would have driven directly to the police station and reported Joe Swift’s second incident of aggressive behavior. Now? I didn’t want to imperil Kevin’s job by even showing my face around there, and I’d already telephoned the station to no avail. Once I’d turned the corner onto Center Street, I slowed Peaches again and tried to picture the home address he’d included in the letter with the autopsy results. As I recalled, it was on the other side of Market Street somewhere in the Clark Street area. Was it Fruit Place, or Tuxbury Street? Neither rang a bell in my memory.

  The carriage factory to my right had a door propped open at the back and sounds of saws and hammers working floated out into the clear winter air. Boardman Street. That was it. I laughed out loud at the sounds of carpentry making me think of boards, which made me remember the street name. I’d go to Kevin’s home and leave him a message. I always carried a pad of paper and a pencil in my bag. I’d leave my note with his wife, or on the doorstep if she wasn’t home.

  Five minutes later I stood on the front stoop of the small two-story house, one as modest as mine but looking older and in need of minor maintenance. I doubted a police detective earned a luxurious salary, although I’d never asked Kevin. What I did know was that he was devoted to his wife and son, Sean. So what if the house looked a bit shabby?

  A petite woman opened the door. Dark tendrils escaped her long braid and framed a heart-shaped face anchored by brilliant green eyes. “Yes?”

  “Emmaline Donovan?” When she nodded, I went on. “I am Rose Carroll. I’ve worked with thy—”

  “Miss Rose, the midwife-detective?” Her face lit up. “You wouldn’t believe how often Kevin speaks of you. Please come in. It’s freezing out today.”

  It wasn’t until she took a step back that I noticed she was well along in a pregnancy, possibly around six months. Kevin hadn’t told me. That dedicated family man must be delighted to have another child on the way.

  “I thank thee. I won’t take much of thy time.”

  “Don’t be silly. Come and sit.” She spied Peaches. “Wait, we’ll need to provide for your horse. Seannie!” she called.

  A sturdy child hurried in, a toy police wagon in one hand. “Yes, Mama?”

  “Sean, this is Miss Rose, of whom Papa speaks.”

  “Pleased to meet you, miss.” The boy extended his hand to me.

  “And I, thee, Sean.” I shook his slender hand.

  “Please be a good boy, put on your coat and cap, and watch her horse out front,” Emmaline directed the boy.

  “The horse’s name is Peaches,” I added.

  A broad smile split his face. “Yes, miss.” He ran off, and a moment later I heard a door slam from the back.

  “He loves having jobs.” Emmaline gazed after him with affection writ large on her face.

  “What a polite lad.” I thought back to my conversation with Kevin. “Thy husband told me his age, but I can’t recall. Is he around six?”

  “He turned seven in January. You’re probably wondering why he isn’t in school.”

  I had been, but didn’t like to say.

  “Our boy seems to be very quick in his mind. I am schooling him at home for the present. We didn’t want the classroom to hold him back. Now, do come along and we’ll have a good chat.”

  I was liking this woman more with every passing minute. I followed her into a comfortable, family-centered sitting room with book-lined walls and a toy chest in the corner. Five framed pencil drawings like the one I’d seen on Kevin’s desk hung on the walls depicting what looked like Sean at year intervals. They were as good as photographs at capturing his essence. Better even, because the subject wasn’t stiff and poised.

  “Emmaline, thee is very talented. I saw one of thy drawings in Kevin’s office.”

  “Thank you.” She blushed. “It’s rather a passion of mine. I’d fancied myself becoming a famous artist before I was married. Now it’s more of a hobby.”

  “Who’s to say thee won’t still be famous? Thee has thy life ahead of thee.”

  She brushed away the idea. “Please sit.”

  I chose a comfortable armchair as she lowered herself carefully onto a nearby chair.

  “I apologize. This baby is making me work.” Emmaline laughed.

  “Is thee about six months gone?”

  Her eyes widened. “Exactly. You’re good, Miss Rose.”

  “Please just call me Rose. I can’t seem to break Kevin of the title, but thee doesn’t need to use it, truly.”

  “Very well, Rose. How can I help you today?”

  My own smile slid away. “A man, a Joe Swift, has been bothering me at home. He’s possibly involved in the death of a client of mine, and I wanted to let Kevin know. But …” I wasn’t sure how much Kevin had told her about his new chief’s strict policies.

  “But his new boss doesn’t want you around. He told me all about it.”

  “That’s it, exactly. I put in a call to the station earlier today, but they said they have no men to spare and I should just be careful. I have also learned a few new facts and have some thoughts about the case that I wanted to share with Kevin. If thee could possibly let him know, I would so much appreciate it.”

  She pushed up to standing and pointed to the telephone on a desk in the corner. “I’ll call him right now, tell him to come see you on his way home. How does that sound?”

  “Splendid. I thank thee.” I hadn’t noticed the phone when I came in. Some detective I was.

  “Gertrude, this is Emmaline. Put me through to Detective Donovan, please.” Several moments passed, then, “Kev, yes, everything’s fine. Your tailor is here, and he wants you to stop by for a fitting on your way home. Can you get there before five?”

  His tailor? I waited for her to give him my message.

  “Lovely. He also said a difficult customer had come by twice today acting in a threatening way, so maybe you could send somebody by sooner to investigate.”

  I watched Emmaline. She saw me and winked, holding up an index finger in a wait gesture.

  “Perfect. I’ll see you for supper, then. Thanks, darling.” She hung up, smiling from one ear to the other.

  I could see where Sean got his broad smile. “His tailor?” I asked. “Was that code referring to me?”

  “Yes! Isn’t it fun? When Kev said he was disappointed he couldn’t work with you on this case, I suggested we make up some code words. He told me you might be writing to him here, so I said if I needed to relay a message, I’d call you his tailor.” She rolled those green eyes. “Gertrude is a competent operator, but she listens to every last word she can get away with. And her brother is an officer in the force. There are no secrets where Gertrude is involved.” She returned to her easy chair.

  “It’s a brilliant solution, and I thank thee greatly, Emmaline. I suppose I should get along home in case an officer does stop by. I was worried about Joey Swift being there and accosting my young niece and nephews when they arrived home from the Whittier School.”

  “That would be terrible.”

  “Tell me, how does thee school Sean?”

  “We have the arithmetic and mathematics books from the school, and I let him work through them at his own pace. He’s already up to the eighth-grade level. But he’s
interested in everything. He likes to puzzle out how Shakespeare’s words would have been expressed in today’s English, and learn about cloud formations and the life cycle of frogs. He’s already surpassed my knowledge level in many areas, so I just learn along with him. I suppose in a few years we’ll need to get him an advanced tutor, but for now it’s glorious to give him his freedom to soak up whatever he can.”

  “He must have a remarkable intelligence,” I said. “Kevin hasn’t mentioned it. He’s told me about playing ball with the boy, and how good he is at jokes.”

  “Kev doesn’t like to brag, and he doesn’t want other officers or strangers regarding Sean as if he’s an oddity. Because he’s not. He’s a regular boy who happens to have an extra-keen mind.” She caressed the mound of her growing belly. “I hope this one will, too.”

  “Who is thy midwife, Emmaline?” I stood.

  She peered up at me, new lines between her brows. “I don’t have one yet. I know I should have been seen already. We have been hoping for this baby for five years, Rose. I am finally with child and terrified something will happen to the baby, to us during birth, to the newborn. Just terrified. So I haven’t sought care, which doesn’t make sense at all. Except that …”

  “Except thee is afraid a midwife might find something awry?”

  “That’s it in a nutshell. I have been meaning to pay you a visit and haven’t drummed up my courage yet.”

  “If thee wants my care, I would be more than happy to provide it. Please don’t worry. The most dangerous period for the pregnancy itself has passed, the first twelve weeks. Now thy job is to eat well—meat and vegetables—and drink clean milk. Make sure thee rests when thee needs to, go out in the fresh air, and let this baby grow well inside thee. Thy body is made for this work. We’ll work together to bring a living and healthy baby into thy happy family.”

  She clasped my hand. “It’s what I want more than anything. Kevin and I always planned to a have a passel of Donovans. We have one child we love, but two would make us all very happy.”

  twenty-three

  After I realized how close I was to the Skells’ flat, I decided to pay Ransom a visit before I returned home. I wondered how I could get him to acknowledge visiting Delia at home. The flat was located on the second floor in a house that had been converted to apartments. As I pulled Peaches to a halt in front, a girl in braids trudged up. She kicked snow with her foot, her shoulders slumped, and her strapped books nearly dragged on the ground.

  “Priscilla,” I called to Charity and Ransom’s eldest child and Betsy’s friend. I climbed down from the buggy, holding the reins. “Has thee just come from school?”

  Priscilla glanced up. “Hello, Rose.” A smudge of dirt marred the delicate skin of her cheek and a long strand of hair escaped from its braid hung listless next to her ear. “Yes, I have. Why is thee here?”

  “I wanted to see how thee and thy sisters and brother were doing.” A pang of guilt made me realize I should have come earlier to check on the motherless brood. I knew them all from Meeting, of course, and Priscilla had played with Betsy at our house before.

  “The little ones don’t hardly know Mama’s gone, and my sisters cry all the time now. They are only seven, six, and five, though.” Priscilla sounded scornful of such babyish ways, despite being barely nine herself.

  “And thee?” I stroked the top of her head. “Thee must miss thy mother very much.”

  She sniffed, swiping at her eye and smearing the dirt on her cheek. The original patch must have come from tears, too.

  “I’m mad at her, Rose, and at Father, too. It’s all rotten now.” Her mouth turned down. “Why’d she have to go and die? Why couldn’t Father save her?”

  How much had Ransom told the children? I gentled my voice. “I was with her, my dear. There was nothing anyone could do to save her. I’m so sorry.”

  “I want things back the way they were.” She kicked a chunk of ice into the street. “A boy at school said somebody killed Mama. I had to beat him up to make him take it back.”

  I slid my hand over my mouth. Talk of Charity’s death had reached the schoolyard. And this sweet Quaker girl had to resort to her fists to defend her mother’s name. Peaches snuffled and an idea arose.

  “Does thee want to pet Peaches? He’s very friendly.” I’d seen the calming effect horses could have on distraught people before. In fact, my father had started a program for children who resided at a special school for the feeble-minded and disturbed. They came regularly out to the farm, because he’d seen how taking care of large animals provided children with solace and a kind of inner peace.

  “May I?” Priscilla asked, her eyes lighting up.

  “Of course. He won’t hurt thee.” I watched her stroke the gelding’s neck and run her finger down his long nose.

  She looked up at me with a small smile. “He’s so soft.”

  “I know. Priscilla, I’d like thee to wait with him here while I run up and check on thy father. I won’t be long.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, thee is big enough. And I know thee will do a good job.”

  She squared her little shoulders. “Take all the time thee needs, Rose. I’ll watch over him.”

  I lifted my skirts and made my way up the steps, being careful on icy patches. Ransom, holding the youngest girl on his shoulder, let me in with barely a word of greeting.

  “I wanted to see how thee is faring, Ransom.” As I stood in the sitting room, it appeared he wasn’t faring very well. Toys, clothes, and papers were in every corner. Little Howie’s nose ran unwiped, and the baby smelled like she needed a change. The five-year-old sat on an old rocking horse sucking her thumb as she rocked, with the next oldest in a chair frowning at a picture book, her lips moving as she read. She sniffed more than once, and wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “Have you come to help, then?” Ransom asked. His short red curls stuck up every which way, his ruddy skin had turned pale, and his shirt was rumpled.

  “No, I’m sorry, I can’t at this time. Have the women of the Meeting been bringing meals for thee and the children?” Maybe the women should also organize home care, but that might be beyond the extent of what was normally done. After my sister died, the food was plentiful, and Frederick had had Faith and me to help out with the household.

  “Yes, at least we’re well fed. I am appreciating all my wife did around the house, I’ll tell you. I don’t know how she managed.” The skin around his eyes looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, and he probably hadn’t. “It makes me want to get back to my job at the Boat Shop.”

  “What will thee do with the little ones when thee does?”

  “My mother-in-law will take them. She said she doesn’t mind, and she’s already got the nursemaid hired.” He looked around the room. As if the thought just occurred to him, he said, “Sissy, where’s Priscilla? Didn’t she come home from school with you?” His expression turned from fatigued to alarmed.

  The reader looked up with reddened eyes. “She’s mad at the world. She said she was coming later.” Her lower lip wobbled.

  “Not to worry, Ransom,” I said. “She arrived when I did. She’s downstairs watching my horse.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. If I lost one of these on top of Charity, well, I don’t know …” His voice broke and he turned away. The baby began to whimper.

  “Give me the little one, Ransom. Go wash thy face. I can stay for a few more minutes.”

  He handed me the stinky baby silently and hurried into the kitchen.

  “Come on, baby. Let’s find thee a clean diaper.” I’d come in part with the intention of questioning Ransom about visiting Delia. Now clearly was not the time. He was distressed and it didn’t seem like an act. Perhaps he’d had a change of heart now that his wife was dead. Instead of seeing Delia on the sly, this father was going to have to learn how to care for his children.
r />   twenty-four

  I arrived home by four o’clock to no Joey. I had no way of knowing if Kevin had found an officer to pass by, or if Joey had just given up on me. The old adage, “All’s well that ends well” ran through my brain, although I rather doubted this particular episode had actually ended.

  Collecting the afternoon mail, my eyes widened at a note from Virtue Swift. It was brief, saying only that the Memorial Meeting for Worship for her daughter had been scheduled for Seventh Day at two o’clock in the afternoon. She did not mention her son-in-law. I set the missive aside and washed up. It was time to bake.

  I set to work shaping loaves of bread, heating up the oven, and cutting lard into flour for a big batch of pie crust. By the time the children clattered in, all red-cheeked and talking over each other, the bread was baking and I was filling the bottom crusts with the thickened stew.

  I’d saved out the crust scraps for pie cookies, as we called them. It was just the extra rolled-out dough topped with cinnamon and sugar, and baked for a few minutes until they crisped up, but the children loved them. I did, too. I popped them in the hot oven next to the bread.

  “Wash up, now, and we’ll have a treat in a couple of minutes.” The normality of a busy family life soothed me for the moment from my thoughts of suspects, criminal abortion, and homicide.

  Faith returned in time to snatch the last cookie off the plate. She removed her outerwear and hugged me, eyes agleam, but her cookie-holding hand shook.

  “Rose, how ever can I wait until First Day to marry? I am a nervous wreck. I alternate between pure joy and terrible worry that something will go wrong. What if we get a big snowstorm? What if my dress isn’t finished in time? What if—”

  I took her by the shoulders. “Faith, all will be well. We’ve walked to the Meetinghouse in the snow before, remember? When did Alma say thy dress will be ready?”

  “Tomorrow. I’m to pick it up tomorrow.”

  “She is a reliable seamstress. It will be ready. And aren’t the women handling the refreshments?”