and his folded hands were age-spotted and paper-skinned. But his cool blue eye met hers without a shred of animosity.
“Abigail,” he murmured as he rose clumsily to his feet.
“Dr. Weller. It’s good to see you, but you shouldn’t have come. You probably left an office full of patients, many who need you more than me.”
“I rescheduled them. I’m sorry I haven’t been here sooner.”
“Thank you for coming to court for my bail hearing. I saw you in the…audience.” Abby didn’t know correct courtroom terminology.
“I wanted to make a statement on your behalf, but I was told I had to wait until the pretrial hearing.”
“You wished to speak for me?” she asked, as hope stirred deep in her chest.
“Of course I do. Mrs. Fisher wasn’t my patient and therefore she was not your patient. From what I could find out, she wasn’t under a doctor’s care, so she had no business calling you instead of an ambulance.”
“I told her husband to call the EMTs, but he refused.”
Dr. Weller held up his hand. “I know. I spoke with him at the hospital the next day. He stayed overnight in the waiting room so they could keep an eye on the baby. He doesn’t like courthouses any better than his wife liked hospitals, but I believe he will testify on your behalf. How far along was Mrs. Fisher when you arrived at their farm?”
“She had dilated nine centimeters and was in tremendous pain. Her contractions were worse than any I’ve ever witnessed.”
“And you called the ambulance before setting foot in Mrs. Fisher’s bedroom?”
“Jah, as soon as I reached their house.”
“Then, in my opinion as a physician, you were acting not as a midwife but in a Good Samaritan capacity.”
Abby’s forehead furrowed with confusion. “But I am a midwife. That’s why Nathan Fisher called me. His wife got my number from someone in their district.”
“You were also trying to save the life of the child. If you had stood by and waited for medical personnel to arrive, most likely the baby would have also died. And nothing you could have done would have saved Mrs. Fisher. She shouldn’t have chosen home delivery with her medical condition. In fact, she’d been advised back in Indiana not to get pregnant in the first place.”
Abby glanced left and right to make sure no one was listening. She’d discussed birthing matters with Dr. Weller often enough to not be embarrassed, but she wouldn’t like anyone overhearing them. “That’s what Nathan told me at the funeral.”
“In my professional opinion, you saved the life of Abraham Fisher. The county prosecutor might not agree. He might call expert witness to the contrary, but I don’t think he will. A healthy, thriving child delivered from a dying woman is strong evidence.” Dr. Weller smiled for the first time since arriving. “Now tell me again what you did for the baby.”
Abby’s head began to throb as she remembered Ruth’s cries, the oppressively hot bedroom, and the overwhelming smell of blood. “A few moments after I examined Ruth she was fully dilated, so on one of her contractions I was able to pull the baby free. But her contractions grew weaker as she lost more blood. After I cleaned mucus from the baby’s nose and mouth, he started breathing and crying. I wrapped him in a blanket and handed him to Mr. Fisher. I told him to keep the child warm while I tried to help his wife.” Tears were streaming down her face. “But I couldn’t save her,” she croaked. “There was too much blood.”
Dr. Weller covered her hands with his. “No, you couldn’t save her. It’s doubtful that I could have either without proper medical equipment, IVs, and an accomplished surgeon. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that woman’s death.”
Abby removed one of her hands from his to wipe her face with her handkerchief. “I don’t, not really. God called her home. That’s what I believe happened.”
Weller nodded in agreement. “Your attorney should have no trouble with the charges of ‘practicing midwifery without a license’ in this emergency situation, and he certainly should be able to get ‘manslaughter’ dropped at the pretrial hearing. That one is ridiculous anyway.” He glanced across the room and sighed. “But the ‘practicing medicine without a license’ and ‘possession and sale of a dangerous controlled substances’ charges are a different story. Did you really give Ruth Fisher an injection of Pitocin?”
Abby met his gaze without hesitation. “Jah, I did, but I didn’t sell any drugs.”
“Ah, Abigail. If you’d