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  “Thank thee, Faith. I am fine.”

  David kissed the top of Hattie’s head and then the top of mine. “I’ll let you girls have a visit. I need to get supper on.”

  Faith watched him go, then took his place next to me. “Thee found a treasure in that one.” She stroked Hattie’s tiny, perfect hand.

  “And I know it.”

  “Hello, dear tiny cousin,” she said to Hattie, then gazed at me. “Rose, I have news for thee.”

  I gazed back, suddenly suspecting what she had to say. I waited for her to share it.

  “Zeb and I are going to have a baby, too.” She brought both hands to her mouth, her eyes sparkling above them.

  “Oh, Faith. I am so very happy for thee.” My eyes brimmed and overflowed even as I smiled.

  “Why does thee cry, Rose?”

  I laughed, sniffing. “Emotions after childbirth go on a crazy trolley ride. I’ve seen it in the mothers I care for. Now I’m experiencing it. There’s nothing to worry about.” I took off my glasses and swiped at my eyes. “I daresay thee is due, let’s see, about Christmastime, or in First Month?”

  She nodded. “Thee will be my midwife, won’t thee?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll need to have this little bug along, but Annie will assist, and we can get Betsy to watch Hattie between feedings.”

  “Nothing would make Betsy happier. She’s been beside herself, as thee well knows, waiting for Hattie’s arrival. Next year she’ll have two little ones to care for—one a cousin and one a niece or nephew.”

  The doorbell rang downstairs, followed by murmured male voices. Two sets of feet tromped up. David, clad in an apron, stepped in looking worried.

  “What is it, my dear?” I asked.

  “Kevin is here. He didn’t know you’d given birth, and he’ll go right away if you say.”

  I surveyed myself. I wore a clean nightdress, with the quilt pulled up to my lap. I wasn’t in pain, and the baby was sleeping. “Faith, please hand me that light shawl.” I thanked her and wrapped it loosely around my shoulders. “I’d love to see him, and he can give Hattie one of his Irish blessings.”

  Kevin stepped around the corner of the doorway, hat in hand, cheeks flushed. “Here and you’ve given birth only today, Miss Rose. May I offer my heartiest congratulations?”

  “Please, and thank thee. Come closer and see our girl. I’m decent enough.”

  He crept forward and peered at Hattie, but kept his hands clasped behind his back. “Well, by the saints she’s a sweet one, and as pretty as they come.” He straightened and spoke a string of words in Irish. “It’s what we say for new babbies. ‘May strong arms hold you, caring hearts tend you, and may love await you at every step.’”

  “That is lovely.” I tilted my head. “Now Kevin, since thee didn’t know we had a new baby to bless, might I ask why thee stopped by?”

  The detective rubbed his hair, as he had a habit of doing when things weren’t going well. “It’s this way. You probably haven’t heard, but a man has been found dead near the Salisbury Point rail stop, and another man’s gone missing. It looks like homicide, and the details of the case are confounding me something fierce.”

  “And thee wants my help.”

  “Rather desperately,” he said.

  I didn’t look directly at David across the room. “I wish thee the best of luck with it. But I’m going to take a break from investigations.”

  “I was afraid you’d say so,” Kevin admitted. “And naturally I wouldn’t want you out traipsing around. But what if I only consulted with you about the facts? You’re so good at helping me sort out my addled thoughts.”

  I gazed fondly at him. I would miss helping the police, being a sounding board, teasing out the facts with Kevin, and digging around asking questions in places he either couldn’t venture or hadn’t thought of.

  “My answer is still no.” I stroked Hattie’s head. “What with motherhood and midwifery, I’m afraid even talking about murder would be too much.” At least for now.

  David blew me a grateful kiss.

  “You know how invaluable your insights and assistance have been to me in the past,” Kevin said.

  “I thank thee for acknowledging my help. But I can’t continue at this time.”

  Kevin clapped his hat on his head. The act was a final one, but his expression was kindly. He was a father of two. He knew what my life held going forward. “Very well. I do understand.”

  “I am glad.” I didn’t want David’s headaches to return. I didn’t want to do one thing to imperil Hattie’s life or mine. I didn’t know what would happen in the future. Perhaps I’d return to investigating homicides, perhaps not. For now, the light in my life had changed, gained a new focus, and I was at peace with it.

  Acknowledgments

  Amesbury resident Mary Chatigny was the high bidder at the Amesbury Carriage Museum auction to have her name included in this book. Thank you for supporting our wonderful historical museum, Mary, and I hope you like your made-up historical self. When I told Mary her character would be a tuberculosis doctor, she was astonished, saying her grandmother had died of the disease in 1921. For the record, I have no knowledge of real Mary’s vices, minor or major, and expect she has neither.

  I enjoyed bringing back into this book other Amesbury residents whose names earlier appeared as characters because of their donations to worthy local charities. Thank you to Marie Deorocki (sorry about the TB, Marie), Fran Eisenman, Amy and Jonathan Sherwood, and Cathy Toomey for your generosity as well as your eagerness to see who you might have been in the late nineteenth century. Jeanne Papka Smith, a fellow Amesbury Quaker (and a fellow California Scorpio), simply donated her friendship to me and her lifelong experiences living as a blind person.

  I purloined the name Luthera from my dear friend Deb Hamilton. Luthera was her great-great-great aunt, and a woman to be reckoned with. As far as I know, the real Luthera never had any involvement with homicide, but the name was too good not to use. I also borrowed the name of the great Brazilian author Jorge Amado for a visitor to Amesbury in the book.

  Many thanks to midwife Risa Rispoli for reviewing the birth scene in this book, as she has in all the previous Rose Carroll mysteries. My own experience teaching and helping birthing mothers (and being one) was decades ago, so I’m always happy for a sanity check on unmedicated births. Thanks, too, to author-pal Áine Greaney for the Irish phrases about somebody who is not all there upstairs.

  Kept company by my sisters Janet Maxwell and Barbara Bergendorf, I was blessed with the chance to sit with our mother, Marilyn Muller, as she died in April 2012. It is an honor to accompany a loved one—or anyone—on their last journey. I hope my sisters will forgive me for bringing some of my memories from that evening into a scene in this book. I also included a bit of my dear friend Annie Tunstall in Orpha’s final days. Annie, one of my biggest fans, was bedridden in her last months. I was blessed by her intelligent company and her broad smile when I visited and helped in the smallest of ways, including feeding her when it became too painful for her to do so herself.

  I’m grateful for Bill Harris and the team at Beyond the Page Publishing, who have published the most recent Quaker Midwife Mysteries. Thanks also to my agent, John Talbot, for connecting me with Bill.

  I hold enormous gratitude for the late Ramona DeFelice Long, who led the seven o’clock online Sprint Club, a group of writers who all start the morning with an hour of focused creativity. Ramona gave each book in this series a deep read and enriched them in so many ways with her insightful suggestions and critiques. I couldn’t have done it without her. She wasn’t able to read this manuscript, and my fingers are crossed that I didn’t miss something glaring. To my great sorrow, Ramona passed away while this book was in production. The Sprint Club continues in her honor, and I know how happy she would be to know Rose is pregnant and gives birth in this book.

  I’m ever thankful to my fellow Wicked Authors, aka my support crew. Readers, ple
ase join us over at wickedauthors.com and meet these fabulous authors: Jessie Crockett, Sherry Harris, Julie Hennrikus, Liz Mugavero, and Barbara Ross (and all their alter egos).

  Love always to my friends and family, to Hugh, and to my fellow Amesbury Friends for your support and joy at my successes.

  I hope readers will also find my short stories, as well as my two contemporary mystery series, which I write as Maddie Day. Please remember, if you like a book, writing a short positive review and telling everyone you know is the best way to help the author.

  Finally, thank you to all the dedicated fans of my fictional Quaker midwife. I’ve decided to let her move on with her life and let myself move on to new projects. The characters, era, and setting of this series have always been near to my heart, so don’t be surprised if Rose pops up again in a short story now and again. Thank you for supporting Rose and gang all the way through.

  Books by Edith Maxwell

  Quaker Midwife Mysteries

  Delivering the Truth

  Called to Justice

  Turning the Tide

  Charity’s Burden

  Judge Thee Not

  Taken Too Soon

  A Changing Light

  Lauren Rousseau Mysteries

  Speaking of Murder

  Murder on the Bluffs

  Local Foods Mysteries

  A Tine to Live, a Tine to Die

  ’Til Dirt Do Us Part

  Farmed and Dangerous

  Murder Most Fowl

  Mulch Ado About Murder

  Country Store Mysteries

  (written as Maddie Day)

  Flipped for Murder

  Grilled for Murder

  When the Grits Hit the Fan

  Biscuits and Slashed Browns

  Death Over Easy

  Strangled Eggs and Ham

  Nacho Average Murder

  Candy Slain Murder

  Cozy Capers Book Group Mysteries

  (written as Maddie Day)

  Murder on Cape Cod

  Murder at the Taffy Shop

  About the Author

  Agatha Award-winning author Edith Maxwell writes the Amesbury-based Quaker Midwife historical mysteries, the Lauren Rousseau Mysteries, the Local Foods Mysteries, and short crime fiction. As Maddie Day she writes the Country Store Mysteries and the Cozy Capers Book Group Mysteries.

  A longtime Quaker and former doula, Maxwell lives north of Boston with her beau, an energetic young cat, and an impressive array of garden statuary. She blogs at WickedAuthors.com and MysteryLoversKitchen.com. Read about all her personalities and her work at edithmaxwell.com.