things she’s tried to lure me home with—that I could open a birth clinic and do home deliveries.” He laughed. “She doesn’t get it.”
We chatted more about the hospital and births. He had done his undergrad work at Columbia, his medical training at Chicago Medical School, and his residency at George Washington University. He’d been at Lancaster General for two years and had just applied to Johns Hopkins. I tried to do the math to figure out how old he was; four plus four plus two plus two equaled at least thirty.
When I told him I’d gone to Oregon Health Sciences University, he said he’d applied there for medical school. “It’s a good place,” he said.
I nodded. It was. I’d been well trained.
“So, how did you end up helping an Amish midwife who’s in trouble with the law?”
“She’s actually a Mennonite midwife. I mean, she mostly works with the Amish, but she’s Mennonite herself.”
“Same difference,” he said, dismissing the whole lot of them with a simple wave of his hand.
“Not exactly,” I replied, feeling strangely offended, though I wasn’t sure why.
We ate in silence for a few moments as I wondered if Sean was a man of faith. As much as I’d distanced myself from God through the years, I still wanted—someday—a guy who believed. Like James. I winced. I couldn’t get around the fact that it was important to me.
“My parents might as well have been Amish,” Sean said, gently shaking his head as he spoke. “Bless them, but they were—are—off their rockers. I mean, I believe in God and all of that, don’t get me wrong, but they totally ingested the Sermon on the Mount, which meant we never had any money. Every time they saved up a few bucks they would give it to ‘someone in need.’” He did the quotation gesture with his fingers. “They have been taken so many times I couldn’t begin to keep track. Someone would be skipping off with their life savings of seven hundred bucks while we kids would wonder where dinner was coming from.”
“How many kids?”
“Six,” he replied. “I’m the oldest. I always helped with the younger ones. Mom homeschooled all of us. She still does the last two.”
“Looks like it worked.”
He hooted. “I basically educated myself. It was a miracle I made it into college, let alone med school.”
My phone beeped as he finished talking, and I checked my text message.
It was from Marta. “Looks like I have a prenatal visit at eight.” The time on the text read 7:30. I exhaled. “I’d better get going.” I stood. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Sean took my tray. “I guess I won’t be seeing you around.”
“Not if all goes well.”
“How long are you here?”
“I’m not sure. I need to go to Harrisburg briefly, and then I start my position in Philadelphia…” My voice trailed off. Was he going to ask for my number?
“So,” he said, beaming at me, “we could see each other again.”
“Um, maybe.” I was caught off guard by his full-face smile. “I really have no idea what my schedule is going to look like for the next couple of days, though.” I tried to push all thoughts of James from my mind.
He held up his iPhone. “Give me your number, and I’ll give you a call.” His voice was playful.
Without really thinking it through, on impulse I recited my number, which he quickly keyed into his phone.
“I’ll call day after tomorrow,” he said. “After I’ve had a chance to catch a nap.” He winked as we said goodbye.
The thing was, I didn’t think I’d still be in Lancaster County the day after tomorrow. But then again, maybe I would. If I wasn’t, would Sean come to Philadelphia to see me?
More importantly, would I be glad if he did?
ELEVEN
I had three prenatal appointments in Marta’s office that morning and finished up at eleven. When I entered the cottage, Marta sat at the dining room table with a cordless phone in her hand and an open file in front of her. Without saying hello she said, “We need to check on Barbie and her baby on our way to a four o’clock appointment at the Kemp home.”
“First I want the information that’s coming to me, and then I’m going to sleep for a couple of hours,” I answered and then clenched my teeth. The woman was a slave driver, and I was complicit.
“How about some food?” Was that a glimpse of humanity Marta just displayed?
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I muttered,