A Simple Charity (21 page)

Dr. Taylor sat back in his chair and drew in a deep breath. “The only thing I can say in defense of hospital protocol is that they have an extremely low mortality rate for mothers and newborns.”

“But a high rate of C-sections,” Meg pointed out. “One of the highest in the country. How is it that you became affiliated with them, Larry?”

“When I started practicing, they were the best game in town. And though doctors like Vic Walters may be lacking in bedside manner, most of the staff is well trained and conscientious. But old-school.”

“Very old-school.” She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her fleece jacket. “When I mentioned the patient bill of rights, this big vein popped in Dr. Walters’s neck.”

“Sounds like you hit a tender spot.”

She turned back to him and sighed. “Larry, I think I’m done here. The hospital rules are so restrictive, they might as well be handcuffing me. And after my showdown with Doc Walters, I’m probably barred from the facility, anyway.”

“Not quite, but it’s becoming clear that our hospital is not a good match for your skills.”

She plopped into the chair opposite his desk. “It’s a relief to hear it put into words. So, did they tell you I wasn’t welcome back?”

“Not in so many words, but I’m under the gun for supporting a midwife. It’s not you they’re after as much as the notion of any midwives delivering babies in the hospital. I’ve spoken to the other doctors, even tried to call in a few favors, but they won’t be swayed. They’re holding strong on this. The other doctors don’t want midwives on staff.”

With a deep breath, she leaned back in the chair. “So the hospital administration wants to end their affiliation with me.”

He nodded. “You don’t fit in with their future plans for the hospital. As long as I back you, they won’t suspend your privileges, but you’ve already seen how difficult it can be to work in an environment where the staff is less than supportive.”

“Yes, indeed. I learned that lesson at Terri Fanelli’s expense.”

“Have you thought of starting a country practice?” he suggested.

“I’ve delivered some babies in rural areas. Some farm folk and Amish people.” She had found the people to be cooperative, though the thought of being a country midwife brought her memory screeching back to that cold, icy night when everything had gone wrong. Relentlessly cold weather, impassable roads, uncooperative mother, and an innocent baby in distress.

“Plenty of women in rural areas are grateful for the help of a midwife. Maybe you should move beyond the ’burbs.”

“I can’t do it.”

It was only when Larry looked up from his case notes that she realized she’d said it aloud. “Meg.” He put the pen down and flattened his palms on the paperwork. “You’re a capable, experienced midwife. Any woman would be fortunate to have you as a professional caregiver.”

She frowned, still lost in the darkness of that winter night.

“And while it’s good to learn from your mistakes, your actions in the Collier case were completely responsible, and the board agreed. You did nothing wrong.”

She let out the breath she had been holding, and the shards of memory fell away. Larry was right. She had learned ways to free herself from regret and focus on the present, focus on the job that allowed her to nurture the rich, ripe cycles of new life.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know where I belong. But it’s becoming eminently clear that Pittsburgh is not the place.” She thought of what Jack had said about the possibility that she might move to Halfway. At the time she had thought he was pushing things, but now she wondered if it was a real possibility. It would be nice to live close to Zoey and Tate, and she knew there was a need for licensed midwives in that area. To live in the same town as Jack … right now that seemed too good to be true.

“Look …” Larry interrupted her thoughts. “You’re going on a break to deliver your sister’s baby. It might be a good time to put some feelers out. Check out other institutions. Research their attitudes and policies on home births.”

It was a plan that made sense. “I’ll be staying in Lancaster County for a good six weeks. I’ll scope out the situation there.” She pushed out of the chair, tilting her head to the side. “I have to thank you for all you’ve done, Larry. You stuck by me, against all odds.”

“Well, you’re trying to do a good thing. Someday, the rest of the medical community will see that.” When he came around the desk to shake her hand, she realized that he was a little thinner and grayer than when she had met him years ago, as a nursing student, and she felt a tender spot in her heart for the doctor who had supported her. “God bless you, Meg.”

“Thanks, Doc. So long.” There was a sense of finality in their good-bye; Meg had a feeling she wouldn’t be back. There was a sad
wisp of closure, but also a trembling anticipation of the future. She was at a turning point, a crossroads, and as Jack had emphasized, it was important to keep moving ahead.

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world,” Jack told her as they shared green curry noodles in a Thai restaurant near her apartment. “That’s what Mahatma Gandhi said. And if that pearl of wisdom is too dusty for you, I’ve got a few others tucked up my sleeve.”

She grinned over a mouthful of noodles. “You are never at a loss for words,” she told him. “But I get the point. I’ve always been proud of the fact that I’m a careful, cautious person. I never realized that my steady approach would make me so resistant to change.” It seemed that change was inevitable. Her position here was fizzling out, and there was opportunity in Halfway. Potential clients, her close sister, and Jack …

“The sweet part of the deal is that you don’t have to make any big decisions right now. You’re going to be in Halfway for a while. You can give it a test drive, see how that goes before you close up shop here.”

A stained-glass piece in the restaurant window came alive with a burst of sunlight, and Meg realized that the entire room, with its old wooden booths and fake ferns, seemed more vibrant and alive with Jack here. How did he manage that?

Over the next two days, she saw the city in a new light. The mummies and gems at the Carnegie Museum were wondrous finds through Jack’s eyes. A little French bistro at Penn Place transported them to Paris, with soft light and music, buttery croissants, and a fireplace to chase off the winter night. They held hands under the table and talked about their childhood years, their old neighborhoods,
their hopes, fears, and dreams. Her heart ached for the boy who had lost his parents so young, and yet, from Jack’s enthusiasm and joy in the moment, it was clear that his grandmother had raised him in an atmosphere of love and support. He was wise and impetuous, tough and sensitive; a study in contradictions that she hoped to spend a lifetime exploring. On Sunday morning, they shared the newspaper over waffles and fruit at Waffallonia. In the afternoon, they became part of a crowd of roaring fans at a riverside sports bar, where they cheered the Steelers on to victory.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” she said as he pulled up in front of her apartment.

“Me, too, but I need to drive back early tomorrow. My shift starts at three.”

“Boo. I’ll be coming to Halfway in two weeks. But I guess this is good-bye for now.” As she looked up at him, a rush of emotion overwhelmed her. She reached for him and he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m gonna miss you, Megs.” His kiss stole her breath away, igniting a flame of longing deep inside her. She wanted to stay in his arms … to never let go. When she was with Jack, Pittsburgh was a rich, hospitable city—not the ogre she had thought to be responsible for her sadness. Jack was the key. Wherever he went, that was where she wanted to be.

She couldn’t get to Halfway soon enough.

18

DECEMBER

A
lthough Fanny had come to the hardware store for a roll of insulation, as she waited for Mr. Hennessey to fetch it from the storeroom she kept doubling back to a soft pair of men’s suede work gloves and thinking about Zed’s fine, skilled hands. Strong hands, with slender fingers but a good bit of meat on the palms. She had seen those hands lift heavy beams and rub sanding blocks over wood planks. Those hands had pulled her close to comfort her. They had lifted Tommy away from a bucket of nails and guided Will’s hand on the hammer. There was power and grace in those hands.

Fanny blinked, trying to snap herself out of such a daydream. Zed had spent the past six months working at her place, so it seemed only right to thank him with a gift this time of year. She knew he
would put these gloves to good use. If she bought them for him as a Christmas gift, would anyone think twice about that? Would it start tongues wagging?

There was no denying that she had become attached to Zed over the past few months. Each morning when she came downstairs she looked forward to seeing him. He worked on the carriage house by himself Monday through Friday. In the afternoons, he let Will tag along and learn how to do carpentry and projects. How Will enjoyed doing a man’s work!

An Amish plumber had donated his time to install the kitchen sink and bathroom fixtures. On Saturdays, groups of men had been coming out to help Zed, climbing over the lumber pile like ants on a log. They had finished the flooring and interior framing in two Saturdays, and now they were cutting and installing drywall. Such good work! At this rate, they would be finished before the New Year.

But the thought of finishing made her a little sick. Would Zed stop coming once the place was done? That was a change she wasn’t prepared for. In her heart she knew the truth: She didn’t want to give Zed up. She had come to see him in a different light, as a woman viewed a man. And it seemed that after one glimpse with loving eyes, there was no going back to being strictly friends.

It was getting harder and harder to hide her emerging feelings for Zed, and it was not something she could talk about with anyone. She was a widow in mourning, her Thomas not gone a year yet, and Zed was still working his way back into the community’s good graces after being gone and lost to the faith for so many years. Already the two of them stood out like sore thumbs, and right now a match between them would be pure scandal.