A Midwife Crisis (15 page)

She’d been given an assortment of quilts and shawls throughout the years, but had given most to her family. Besides, it wasn’t like she was moving to John’s for good. As soon as Mrs. Adkins returned, Katie would be coming home, bundle and all.

Leaving the way she had was probably cowardly. After packing, she’d fixed dinner and done her chores before finally announcing her new position and heading for the door. Grandma was livid, Grandpa just knew he was going to starve to death, and Pa still wasn’t sure what was going on when she darted from the cabin, declaring she’d probably be back before Christmas.

It was exciting and daring and more than a little frightening. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember ever sleeping in any bed other than the one she had in the loft of their log cabin.

Her fears vanished in a flash, however, when Julia greeted her with a fierce hug as soon as she stepped into the house.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said to Katie’s skirts.

“I wasn’t gone all that long.”

“It was long enough,” Julia answered with a roll of her big blue eyes.

Before Katie had the chance to find out what Julia meant, John stepped into the foyer. “You’re back.” He flashed a smile and started for the door. “I’ll get your things from the wagon.”

“I have them,” she blurted before he managed to open the door.

With a frown, he looked at the bundle clutched in her arms. “Is that all you brought?”

It was all she had, but he didn’t need to know that. “It’s plenty.”

He chuckled. “Well, I must say, I’ve never known a woman to travel so lightly. I think Caroline brought half of New York with her.”

“John?” Caroline called to him from the parlor.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Why don’t you go on upstairs and get settled in while I check on Caroline? I’ll be up in a minute.”

Katie nodded, but it was a wasted gesture. John scurried to Caroline’s bidding without waiting for Katie’s response. She sighed and started up the stairs. Julia talked a mile a minute, which helped fill the emptiness John had left behind.

Julia followed Katie as she walked past the occupied bedrooms to the empty one at the end of the hall. She stepped into the room, immediately feeling overwhelmed. An ornately carved four-poster bed sat against the far wall. A walnut washstand, with its marble top, was next to the bed, a porcelain bowl and pitcher ready for use. Another walnut dresser had been placed across the room and a pair of velvet-covered chairs flanked a marble-topped table near the window. Thick oriental rugs covered most of the hardwood
floor including the area in front of the hearth. A fire had been laid.

Katie sighed. She couldn’t stay in here. It wasn’t real, and staying in it might make her forget who she was. Turning from the room, she headed for the small chamber at the top of the back stairs leading to the kitchen.

No more than a quarter the size of the other room, this one had only a tiny bed, one wooden chair, and a trunk for her clothing. A scarred table with a plain pitcher and bowl sat next to the bed and would be a perfect spot for her brush. Much better.

“Daddy said you were going to stay in the front room,” Julia said, bouncing on the little bed.

“I think I’d rather stay in here.”

“Why?”

Because it was where she belonged. “It’ll be easier to keep clean.”

Katie assumed Julia accepted her explanation, but when she darted from the room and John appeared moments later, she assumed her assumption was wrong.

“Why are you moving in here?” he asked.

“It’s plenty big enough.” She continued to put away her things while she talked; that way she didn’t have to look at him. Looking at him was hard today. It hurt, for some reason.

“Well, if this is what you want.” He sounded forlorn, if not confused, as his footsteps told her he’d left the room. She still hadn’t looked at him. At this point, she planned never to again.

Preparing dinner took most of the afternoon. Katie wanted it to be the best, and that called for chicken
and dumplings. Julia added biscuits, of course, and buttery mashed potatoes and green beans finished the meal. Katie was proud. She might not own a corset, but she
could
cook.

John’s sudden presence in the kitchen interrupted her while she dished up the meal. He wore a suit, complete with vest and a tie. She swallowed the hurt in her throat. “You’re going somewhere?”

He frowned. “No.” Then he glanced at his clothing. “Oh, Caroline likes to dress for dinner.”

She nodded, absently wiping her hands on her apron. The smudgy one. “Well, you look fine.” And he did, and she shouldn’t have looked because now that she was, it was distracting.

John took a step toward her, his expression softening. “Katie, I need to talk to you.”

“It’ll have to wait,” she said, grabbing a bowl off the counter and heading to the dining room. “I need to get dinner on before it gets cold.”

Unfortunately the bowl she grabbed was empty, and it required a great deal of finagling on her part to make it appear intentional. But if there was one thing Katie knew, it was that men knew nothing about kitchens or bowls and as long as she acted like she knew what she was doing, he wouldn’t question it.

Luckily, Caroline sashayed into the dining room and all of John’s attention landed on the vision in green satin. Katie darted into the kitchen to fetch bowls that had food in them as Caroline’s light laughter flittered in the air.

“John, you look so handsome tonight,” Katie heard Caroline say when she returned with the dumplings.

John chuckled and made a return comment on Caroline’s beauty that Katie tried her best to ignore. She helped Julia into her chair just as Caroline said, “What is
that
?”

Katie glanced up, looking for a mouse or possum or something that would’ve caused such a reaction of horror, then realized Caroline was referring to the dumplings. Katie flushed.

“Those,” John said, placing a healthy portion on his plate, “are the best dumplings you’ll ever eat.”

“Oh.” With a lift of her perfect eyebrow, Caroline placed a hand against her heart. “Well,” she said, mockingly, “how quaint.”

Katie headed back to the kitchen before the tear in the corner of her eye fell down her cheek, but not before she heard Caroline add, “I swear, John, I don’t know how you’ve survived in such primitive conditions.”

John dug into his dumplings, finding it difficult to understand his sister-in-law and her rules on conditions. He loved Katie’s cooking. And her laughter and her company, which he was beginning to miss sorely. Where was she anyway?

He glanced toward the kitchen, anxiously awaiting her return, but when she failed to do so, he assumed she’d already eaten.

“Isn’t that right, John?”

John jerked his attention back to Caroline, realizing with embarrassment he needed to comment on something she’d said, and he hadn’t been listening.

So he said, “Absolutely,” which must have been the perfect comment because she beamed in approval before
continuing. Lois always said that Caroline was a wonderful dinner conversationalist, and he guessed she was. It was his fault he often had trouble staying focused.

But through the years he’d learned to nod and say, “interesting” and other such things that placated her until dessert.

“May I be excused? I want to talk to Katie.” Julia’s question interrupted Caroline’s current story and the look of censure she gave his daughter seemed a bit extreme, but then, she wasn’t used to being around children.

John nodded his permission, secretively envious of Julia’s request. He wanted to talk to Katie too, and as soon as his sister-in-law was settled in for the evening, he intended to do just that.

Katie unfolded her list, smoothing it out on the table-top in her room. It hadn’t been updated since she’d first made it, and it was time to get serious. Dipping the pen in its inkwell, she added a chart to the bottom. She listed each of her fiancés down the side and across the top she placed the categories: intelligence, money, handsomeness, and kissing, making sure to leave an extra column for anything else she’d want to add.

Harold got two points for money, but handsomeness was not in his favor. Randy was handsome and a good kisser, but didn’t have two nickels to rub together, and she wasn’t sure about the intelligent part. Freddie was intelligent enough and seemed to have a little bit of money, but sorely lacked in looks and as for kissing? He hadn’t given that a shot and Katie was afraid to suggest it.

“What’cha doing?” Julia walked into Katie’s open room and plopped down beside her on the bed.

“I’m making a list.”

“For what?”

“I’m getting married, and I need to decide which man I want.”

“Is Daddy on your list?”

Katie hesitated at Julia’s blunt question. “No.”

“Why not?”

She swallowed. “Because he doesn’t want to be.”

“Oh.” Julia wrinkled her brow, apparently thinking over Katie’s response. And if Katie knew her well at all, she’d better get her sidetracked or else she’d run and ask her pa if he wanted to be on the list.

“Since you’re here, do you think you could help me?”

“Sure!” Julia’s face lit up at the prospect.

“I want to marry a man who’ll be a good pa to my children. What do you think would make him a good pa?”

“Well,” Julia started, as though she already had quite a list, “he has to like biscuits.”

Katie smiled.

“And he has to like little girls.”

“Of course.”

“
And
he has to like you.”

Katie laughed. It was a simple list, but probably better than Katie’s.

Suddenly Julia’s face sobered and her brow furrowed in earnest. “But the most important thing is that he has to be happy. Maybe your little girl will be able to make her daddy happy.”

Katie pulled Julia into a hug, racking her brain for a way to explain something this complicated to a five-year-old child. “Sweetheart, you make your daddy happy.”

Julia shook her head. “Only when you’re around.”

A movement by her open door caught Katie’s eye while she fought desperately for something to say to the child. John stood in the hallway, his expression tortured,
but clearly he had heard Julia. He stepped away before Katie could stop him, but she didn’t know what she would have said to him anyway.

“Your pa misses your ma,” she said to Julia, her eyes still riveted to the empty hall. “That’s what makes him sad.”

Julia sat back and wiped her cheek. “He wouldn’t miss her so much if he’d just marry you.”

“I already have three fiancés,” Katie said, tweaking Julia’s nose. “Isn’t that enough?”

Smiling wanly, Julia said, “There’s room at the top of your list for one more.”

“Grown-ups have to do things their own way.” She took Julia’s hand, leading her to her bedroom for the night.

She’d hoped John would come tuck her in, but by the time she’d read Julia a story and put her to bed, the quiet house told her John had already retired. Maybe he couldn’t bear to face his daughter just yet.

With a tired sigh, Katie left Julia’s room and headed down the hallway, but before she made it to her room, a grumble from her stomach reminded her she’d missed dinner. Passing her door, she took the back stairs to the kitchen and the cold dumplings in the icebox. They wouldn’t be as good cold, but stoking the woodstove would take too long, and she was too tired to care about cold.

She almost dropped the bowl when she heard John say, “I suspected you hadn’t eaten.”

Spinning toward the kitchen hearth, she saw him sitting in a chair in the darkness. The embers of the fire barely glowed, but enough light filtered into the
room to see his face and a bottle of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she lied, setting the bowl on the counter.

He looked at her, something she felt more than saw, and a primal need flowed across the room. His fancy evening attire was gone now, his shirt hanging open as he studied her in the darkness.

“Thirsty?” He lifted his glass in an unspoken offer, then chuckled without humor before downing the contents in one gulp. “Of course not. The proper Miss Napier wouldn’t drink whiskey, would she?”

“John, Julia didn’t know what she was saying—”

“Back to ‘John’ now, are we?” He poured another glass of liquor, the bottle thumping loudly as he returned it to the table. “I prefer it that way, you know.” Tipping his glass in a salute to her, he downed the contents once more.

She watched helplessly as he suffered, unable to think of the right things to say to ease some of his pain, but he filled the uncomfortable silence with something even worse.

“Do you know how my wife died?”

She swallowed. “She was hit by a carriage.”

“No,” he said, lifting his hand to correct her. “That’s how she was injured. She died because of me.”

“I don’t believe that for one minute.”

“Ah, but it’s true.” He set his glass on the table and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.

She waited until he ran his hands back through his hair and sighed. “I had just graduated from Harvard Medical School. Top of my class. Everyone was proud
as hell, except my grandfather, but no one can make him proud. Just isn’t in him.” He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Lois and I went to the opera to celebrate my wondrous accomplishment. She was the proudest of all, you see.”

Katie crossed the kitchen as he talked and sat in a chair near him. His voice had dropped as he recounted his tale as though he wasn’t really talking to her anymore, just to the night.

“After the opera, we stepped out to talk with some friends. That’s when it happened. I didn’t even see it coming.”

There was no emotion now when he spoke, only a deadly calm that pulled at her more than ranting ever could.

“By the time I got to her, she was lying in the street dying. And I couldn’t do anything but stare at her. She was bleeding and gasping for air, and the great Harvard graduate froze.”

Silence.

A slight hissing from the fire and the sound of his breathing filled the kitchen with sorrow.

“You’re a man, John,” she said, when she couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. “If she was hurt that bad, your freezing for a few moments didn’t make a difference. It was in God’s hands.”

He looked at her as though he’d only just remembered she was in the room. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Which is why I’m no longer on speaking terms with the old man.”

“You blame God?”

“It’s either Him or me. You pick.”

He was sarcastic, combative, and raw, and it was all she could do not to pull him into her arms to soothe his pain. If only it were that simple.

“It was no one’s fault.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way, Katie girl. It’s always someone’s fault, and since God has seniority, that makes it mine.”

He reached for the whiskey, taking a swig without even bothering with the glass. She waited until he lowered the bottle before she stood and took it gently from his grasp.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

He didn’t argue or resist, just looked up at her as she stood before him. And why she laid her hand against his face, she’d never know, but her touch broke him loose somehow. He covered her hand with his and turned to press a kiss into her palm.

Something inside told her to run, but he stood and pulled her into his arms so quickly, there was no place to go.

“I need you, Katie,” he murmured against her throat, kissing a trail to her jaw, then across her cheek until he found her mouth.

Desperately he kissed, pulling at her lips with his until she parted and his tongue swept her mouth. She could taste the whiskey and the need as he moved against her. His hands suddenly became as desperate as his mouth, one grasping her breast as the other cupped her bottom, pulling her tighter into his embrace.

Dizzying sensations assaulted her, clouding her thoughts and sinking her deeper into him. And the
hand that had stroked her breast now fumbled with the buttons on her bodice. She knew she should stop him, but she couldn’t. Somewhere along the way, his need had become hers. When his lips broke free from her mouth to find her breasts, she clutched his head closer instead of shoving him away. His mouth was warm, wet, and demanding as he suckled first one breast and then the other.

Never had she felt such sensations. Never had she dreamed they even existed, but she knew now she’d never forget. A cool breeze told her he was raising her skirts from the back until his hands grabbed her bottom, squeezing her through the thin fabric of her chemise. Her knees weakened, and a soft gasp slipped from her mouth.

Then suddenly he stopped. He dropped her skirts and buried his face against her breasts as though fighting to regain control. Finally he stood and hugged her against him, her damp flesh pressing his bared chest, his ragged breathing matching her own.

“I’m sorry, Katie,” he whispered against the top of her head before he stepped back and wiped his hands down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, leaving the kitchen with her feeling a lot of things, but sorry wasn’t one of them.