A Simple Charity Page 3

  “Fanny? So your wife is having a baby?” Zoey pressed a palm to her heart. “Oh, my gosh. And the regular midwife is out of town, too.”

  The man was looking back toward the road, eager to return to his mission.

  “Do you want us to call an ambulance for your wife … for Lizzy?” Meg understood his distress, but there was no other choice. In a town like Halfway, the nearest licensed physician was often miles away.

  “Nay … no ambulance. I’m to find a doctor, right away. There’s something wrong …” He grimaced, looking away. “Trouble with the baby.”

  Mouth gaping open, Zoey turned to Meg with a silent plea, but Meg shook her head. No, she couldn’t. Not now.

  “Meg. Come on, now. It sounds like there are complications and you know you can help.”

  Oh, no. No, no. Meg wanted to go back into that bedroom upstairs, draw the shades, and hide for another few weeks. “I can’t do anything. I’m under investigation, and I’m not even licensed right now.”

  Zoey nodded at the Amish man. “Do you think Joe here cares about your issues with the nursing board? No, he doesn’t. His wife is having a baby and she needs your help. These people need you now.”

  Meg made the mistake of looking over at Joe. Holding his straw hat with both hands, he stared at her as if she were an answer to his prayers.

  “Please, miss. Will you help us?”

  The plaintive look in his dark eyes cracked her shield of resolve.

  “Look, Joe. I’m not a doctor. I’m a midwife, but I’m not licensed to deliver babies at the moment. Besides that, it’s not good to jump in on a case at the last minute.”

  “Meg?” A quiet panic glowed in his dark eyes, round as quarters. “Please, kumm. Help Lizzy. Bring us our baby.”

  The plea was like rain to a parched traveler in the desert.

  Bring us our baby.

  She had thought she might never have the chance to partake in such a miracle again, and here was a desperate situation, luring her back.

  “Okay.” With her apron still on, Meg strode toward the man’s buggy, while behind her Zoey chattered on to Joe, singing Meg’s praises, calling her a gifted midwife and a miracle worker.

  “Wait.” Meg paused midstride. “My bags … my equipment.” She turned to Zoey. “In the back of my car.” Although she was on the skids with the medical board, she still carried her bags in her trunk. Toting the equipment was second nature to her.

  “Of course.” With all the aplomb that had escaped Meg, Zoey pointed out the garage to Joe and told him to bring the buggy there and help Meg load her equipment.

  The sight of the heavy cases tugged at an emotion Meg had buried inside her. Joe lifted them into the buggy as if they were light as a feather.

  And then they were off, the powerful horse trotting Meg toward what she was sure would be the second biggest mistake of her life.

  3

  A cocoon of peace and calm. Fanny told herself that she had to keep her wits about her and maintain this quiet haven for Lizzy. Right now, Fanny’s only relief was knowing that Lizzy was too preoccupied to sense the danger in the moment. The young woman didn’t notice that Fanny was quivering beneath her tranquil smile.

  The baby was in trouble. Fanny had told Lizzy that the heartbeat had slowed, and this dark discharge was not a good sign. Lizzy had borne the news bravely, but what else could she do, riding the fury of a contraction?

  As Fanny wiped off the plastic sheets yet again, she wondered what was to be done to help an infant in distress. She had seen this a few times before, but since she had only been a helper, she wasn’t sure what to do. The doctor had always taken over, working the cord loose or moving the mother by ambulance to the hospital for … what? What did they do at the hospital to help the mother and baby, besides surgery, of course? Ach, she couldn’t know these things without being a doctor herself.

  As Lizzy rested through a lull, Fanny wiped the woman’s forehead with a cool cloth and listened for the welcome sound of a car coming up the lane. A medical doctor. Please, Gott in Heaven, send us a doctor.

  Sending up a silent prayer, Fanny told Lizzy she was doing just fine. When Lizzy squeezed her fingers, Fanny stayed by her side as another pain came and went. Sometimes, that was all a person could do, keep company and pray.

  Lizzy wouldn’t believe it now, but the pain would become a distant memory after the baby was born. And the joy of having a newborn in the house! Fanny remembered cold winter nights when she and Tom would snuggle in their bed, tucked in a nest of blankets with a baby between them. Tom had been a patient father, good at consoling the little ones when they whimpered. How she’d loved hearing him speak to them or sing “This Little Light of Mine” in his winsome, smooth voice.

  “This little light of mine … I’m gonna let it shine …”

  Fanny closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the kind, gentle man she had expected to spend the rest of her life with.

  Oh, Tom! We still miss you so!

  A meek little cry brought Fanny back to the birthing room.

  “When will my baby be here?” Lizzy asked in a voice weak from exhaustion.

  “Soon, liebe.” Fanny checked the baby’s wavering heartbeat again and wondered what Anna would have done. When it came to helping mothers give birth, Anna had seen it all. A wonderful good midwife to this community for more than forty years, Anna had delivered Fanny’s three children with the help of Doc Trueherz. Fanny longed for someone else to take the lead here, but wishing wouldn’t make it so.

  Wishing was a waste of time, but the power of prayer was endless. Again, she prayed silently, asking Gott to bless this mother and child. Fanny knew that Lizzy and Joe had been married for many years, longing for a child all that time.

  Pressing a cloth to Lizzy’s forehead, Fanny recalled the couple’s wedding some six years ago. Tall, square-jawed Joe was nearly a head taller than Lizzy, a fair-haired girl with warm amber eyes. Two young folks with love in their eyes.

  Even before that, Fanny had known Lizzy through David’s family, as Lizzy was one of David’s nieces. Just a teen when David had died, Lizzy had been so thoughtful during that difficult time when some of David’s family had suggested that Fanny return to Ohio. David’s sister Dorcas and his mother, Joan—oh, those two had probably thought they were being helpful, but they had made Fanny feel like a burr on the coat of the Fisher family. But not Lizzy. Lizzy had brought Fanny baked goods and even knitted her a scarf, which Fanny still wore on cold winter days.

  And then, Gott had brought them even closer in the accident. Although Fanny missed Tom every day, she was grateful that the others had been spared. Lizzy was the closest thing that Fanny had to a sister here in Halfway.

  Dear Gott, have mercy on this young couple and bring them a healthy baby.

  With a moan, Lizzy scrambled onto her knees. “I need to push.”

  It was time. Fanny could only do her best; the rest was up to the Almighty.

  4

  Humidity rose from the road in a steamy promise of a hot day as the Amish buggy rushed Meg into the center of a crisis. Was she about to revisit the same dire situation that had put her midwife practice in jeopardy? A likely possibility. Oddly, she felt serenity at being called to help with the thing she knew best, and a little excitement at the speed Market Joe had reached with the buggy. The vehicle jostled over bumps in the road, but the horse seemed to like having its head, taking the road at a fast trot. Meg didn’t mind the speed, though it did worry her that the vehicle had no seat belts.

  Thinking ahead, she tugged off the kitchen apron and pulled her hair back with an elastic from a pocket of her shorts. She needed to be ready for whatever stage of labor this woman was in.

  Lizzy. Meg knew her name but not much else. When she worked with a client, she wove a delicate relationship with the mother through weeks of prenatal care. She knew her medical history and gained her trust. The bond between midwife and mother was an important part of the difficult dance of labor and
delivery, which could be exhausting for everyone involved.

  Meg didn’t like coming in at the eleventh hour—especially after the Collier case, which had turned tragic after Meg had taken on a desperate woman at the last minute.

  She shot a look at the nervous Amish man beside her. “I need you to fill me in on your wife’s medical history. Has she had a baby before?”

  “No. This is our first.”

  “And you said she has a doctor. She’s been seeing him for regular prenatal checkups?”

  “Ya. Doc Trueherz, and the Amish midwives. She saw Anna in the beginning. In the last month, Fanny began to pay us visits, seeing as Anna was going away.”

  So Lizzy had been seeing a doctor and a midwife; that was a relief.

  “Do you know the problem with the delivery? Is she bleeding?”

  “That I don’t know. Fanny just told me that the baby might be in trouble.”

  “A slow heartbeat?”

  “You have to ask Fanny.”

  She took her cell phone from her pocket and checked—two bars. “Should I call an ambulance while I still have reception?”

  “Nay. Fanny didn’t ask for an ambulance.”

  Well, maybe that was some consolation.

  The road was a dark ribbon cutting through fields and looping up and down hills. All the planning in the world couldn’t account for the barriers that fell in a person’s path; Meg was learning that lesson in spades. She held on to the vinyl seat and prayed for a positive outcome.

  The buggy moved quickly to the outer edge of Halfway, zipped by a cornfield, then turned into a lane that led to simple clapboard houses. Joe pulled up in front of a plain white house with yellow and red pansies providing bright bursts of color along the front porch. Joe halted the horse, and Meg quickly jumped to the ground. She grabbed one case and told Joe to bring the other as she moved briskly along the path. Even before Meg reached the porch, an Amish woman appeared at the screen door.

  “Please, kumm.”

  “You’re Fanny?” Meg put her equipment down inside the door and followed the woman down a narrow hall. She kept her voice level, knowing that loud voices or whispers could aggravate a laboring woman. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  Fanny knew the basics, and she had accurately recognized the signs of fetal distress.

  As Fanny filled her in, Meg washed her hands and tugged on latex gloves. At the bedside, she leaned in close to make eye contact with the patient. “Lizzy? My name is Meg and I’m here to help you deliver your baby.”

  There was puffiness around Lizzy’s golden eyes, but it was clear that she understood. A quick exam revealed that she was fully dilated and already pushing.

  “Every time she pushes, the baby’s heartbeat goes down,” Fanny explained, even before Meg could attach the fetal heart monitor from her bag.

  “The cord might be wrapped around the baby,” Meg said, shifting into midwife mode. She handed her cell phone to Joe and asked him to get an ambulance here. She could see that the labor was too far progressed to get Lizzy to a hospital, but the crew would have special equipment to aspirate fluid and meconium from the baby’s bronchial passages. Meg had learned the hard way, from that terrible winter night, that an ambulance can save a life.

  In the meantime, Meg had to help this young woman have her baby, now.

  She slipped a mask on Lizzy’s face and started the oxygen flow as another contraction began. Fanny held Lizzy’s shoulders as she pushed, and the baby’s head crowned, but then receded as the contraction ended. Fanny was right; the contraction had made the baby’s heart rate dip dangerously low.

  Meg warned Lizzy, then reached in to check for a tangled cord. The baby’s head was right there, firm as a sweet potato. Easing her fingers along the head, Meg found it—the umbilical cord looped around the baby’s neck. Straining, she worked to pull the rubbery cord of flesh over the head just as another contraction began.

  This time, when Lizzy pushed, the baby’s head slid into Meg’s palm. Coated with slick meconium, the baby looked more like a rough sculpture. Meg had Fanny hand her the suctioning tool. The Amish woman was intuitive—a great help at a time like this.

  “We want to get as much of this muck out as we can before the baby starts breathing,” Meg said as she suctioned the baby’s mouth, filling the portable container with brown sludge. When Meg pushed the suction tube into the tiny nostrils, the infant wrinkled its face and tried to turn its head away.

  “Oh, so you don’t like that?” Meg let out a laugh, delighted by such a healthy reaction. “Your baby is a feisty one.” Then she continued sucking on the mouthpiece until the nostrils were clear.

  “Okay, Lizzy.” Meg looked up at the weary faces of the Amish couple. “One more big push and your baby will be here.”

  With one solid push, the rest of the baby slid out, so fast that Meg was grateful to have the bed beneath her arms. “It’s a boy, and a slippery little thing, too!”

  “Such a long cord,” Fanny observed as Meg unwrapped the tangled cord from the baby’s chest and shoulders.

  Meg agreed. “No wonder it was tangled.”

  As the couple exchanged words of delight, Meg clamped and cut the cord, and Fanny whisked the infant away in blankets she had warmed in the stove. “Don’t clean him up yet,” Meg told Fanny, explaining to the three of them that rubbing stimulated breathing, and they wanted to keep the baby’s respirations shallow until the paramedics were able to check his lungs and bronchial passages. She emphasized these instructions to Fanny, realizing that the Amish woman would be the one to explain the situation to the paramedics. For her own sake, Meg knew she’d best lam out of here before any medical officials arrived. With a case pending against her and her license at risk, she knew it would not look good to be delivering a baby.

  Tending to Lizzy and the afterbirth, Meg listened to Joe’s suggestion of names, Fanny’s cooing, and the indignant cries of the baby, who certainly seemed to have clear lungs despite the meconium.

  “He’s determined to holler,” Fanny told Meg.

  “I’m not worried about that. His lungs sound healthy to me.” Meg spared the infant a glance and smiled.

  A healthy baby had been born at her hands today.

  Baby number 233.

  She had worried that it might never happen again, and just when she’d been about to give up, an Amish stranger had come riding up the road to the inn.

  Out in the main room, the mood was jubilant. Lizzy rested on the sofa, her face lit with delight as Fanny placed the baby boy in her arms. Leaning in behind his wife, Joe spoke to the baby, who turned toward his father’s voice, dark eyes alert.

  “Ya, that’s your dat, little one,” Lizzy said, looking fondly from her son to her husband. “What shall we call you? What do you think, Joe?”

  “I think Gott has blessed us with a good son.”

  “I meant about his name,” Lizzy said, and they laughed together as Fanny teased them about not being prepared.

  The sight of the happy couple with the baby in their arms brought tears to Meg’s eyes. After delivering more than two hundred babies, she was still in awe of the miracle of birth. She had always thought she was meant to help women deliver their babies at home, but the case against her shattered those plans and dreams. She had thought she was at the end of a road, but in fact, she’d been waiting at a crossroads.

  Meg smiled as she packed up her equipment. The tension that had gripped her had drained away, leaving a bubbly, giddy feeling of jubilation. She knew she should call her sister to come get her. She had to get out of here. But the desire to stay and bask in the glow of a new life was irresistible.

  As she closed up her case, she saw that Fanny had done a thorough cleanup in the bedroom; the bed was covered with fresh sheets and a quilt, and the plastic sheets were out of sight. Fanny appeared at the bedroom doorway.

  “Meg, do you want a sandwich or some lemonade?”

  “No, thanks. I was just thinking that you do excellent wor
k,” she told Fanny.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, and it brings me so much joy to be nearby when a baby is born. Every new baby is like a new sunrise, bright and so hopeful.”

  “That’s a beautiful image—a new sunrise.” Meg patted Fanny’s shoulder. “You were a big help. Thank you.”

  “I just do what I can. It was a good thing that you came when you did.”

  Meg lugged her equipment out to the living room, where the couple now sat together on the sofa. Lizzy was singing softly to the newborn, and Joe held another baby, with the formed features and alertness of a six- to eight-month-old. With a beautiful shock of dark hair, pale, chubby cheeks, and a gummy smile, this baby was fully engaged with the world around him.

  “And who are you?” Meg asked.

  “This is Tommy, Fanny’s little one. He slept through everything.”

  “You’re a happy guy,” Meg teased.

  Joe jumped up, cradling Tommy in one arm. “Let me carry that out for you. I’ll take you back to the inn.”

  “No need to do that. My sister will come for me,” Meg said. She didn’t want to tear Joe away from his newborn baby.

  “It’s no trouble, after all you did for us. Fanny said you were sent from Gott, and she’s right.”

  “God does work in mysterious ways. But I can get home on my own. Sit. Enjoy your new family.”

  “If you’re sure, then I’m happy to stay a bit with Lizzy and John.” A wide grin lit his face as he deposited her case near the door and looked fondly toward his new son. “That’s his name.”

  “John is a good, strong name.”

  Just then Fanny came in bearing a tray of food. There was a large bowl of cornflakes topped with icy purple gobs—a concoction of frozen grape juice, popular among the Amish. The plate held a sandwich stuffed so fat, the top slice of bread was teetering off to the side. “There you go,” she said, setting the tray on the table. She took her son from Joe and kissed his fat cheeks, cajoling him in Pennsylvania Dutch. Despite the stern appearance of the Amish to the outside world, these folks had much love and affection for their children.