The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,53
and dismissive and brusque, but this homicide charge is just so very scary and stressful… I’ve been far worse with all of that than usual…” As she struggled for the right words, I couldn’t believe the effect of what she’d already said had on me. Like a warm, soothing balm washing over a wound, her words of thanks and apology had been needed by me more than I realized.
“You’re welcome, and you’re forgiven,” I told her, holding up one hand as if to assure her that she’d said enough and didn’t need to go on. “Thanks for telling me.”
She nodded, but before she turned to go, she gave me a slight smile. “I wish you could know me when I wasn’t in the midst of absolute disaster. I’m really not a bad person.”
I chuckled. “I wish you could know me when I’m not in the midst of a desperate search. I’m not so bad either.”
We shared a smile, and then she gave a single nod and turned to go. As the door slowly closed behind her, my own smile lingered for a bit. But as it faded, I began to feel guilty, as though I were the one who owed her an apology now. Here I was about to involve her children in my own schemes, behind her back, just as the woman had decided to offer me an olive branch.
Timing never had been my strong suit.
A half hour later, Esther greeted us and ushered us into her row house. Tantalizing spices greeted us. “I’m making stew,” she said. “Can you stay for dinner?”
I politely declined, and Ella added that we had another errand to run.
Simon was on the couch, covered with a crocheted afghan, and was just waking. He smiled at Zed and then rubbed his eyes with his chubby hands.
“Hi, bud,” Zed said, kneeling down beside him.
Simon scrambled to his knees and held up his arms. Zed lifted him and then held him, a little awkwardly.
“Ah,” Ella said. “Why do you want Zed to hold you? What about me?”
Simon giggled and dove toward Ella. She caught him and settled him on her hip like a pro.
I gave Esther the valerian and asked how she was doing. We chatted a little about her insomnia. In my practice, we recommended that women exercise during the day and drink chamomile tea at night. Rarely did we prescribe sleep aids, although every once in a while we did. A few times I had suggested that a woman look into valerian—something I knew from working with Sophie—but I always left it entirely up to the patient. I’d never think to give one of them a bottle of the stuff—it just wasn’t done in the professional world of nurse-midwifery.
“We should get going,” Ella said, tugging on my sleeve like a little kid. Simon was pulling on the strings of her cap, yanking it from side to side, but the straight pins held it in place.
Simon and Esther gave everyone a hug, including me.
“Where’s David?” Zed asked.
“Downtown,” Esther answered, her eyes a little downcast. Zed left it at that.
In the car, though, Ella said, “I know where David is.”
I wasn’t really interested, but Zed asked where as I started the engine.
“The courthouse.”
Now I was interested.
“He and a bunch of other people from church are there in support of Mom.”
“Can we drive by?” Zed asked from the backseat.
“But not get out?” I didn’t think Marta would want her children involved in any protests, and I certainly didn’t want to be.
Ella nodded. “No one will recognize your car if we just pass by.”
“Duck if you see your mom. If she’s at her lawyer’s office, it’s just across the street.”
I eased out of the alleyway and turned onto Queen Street. A few minutes later I cut over to Duke. Ahead a group of people stood perfectly still on the sidewalk. There were no signs. No one was marching. I drove by slowly. There were people in regular clothes, women in Mennonite dresses and caps, and a group of Amish women and men. There were a handful of African women wearing colorful skirts and blouses and one African man, whom I assumed was David. There was a woman in a sari, and I wondered if she was Marta’s patient from Pakistan. We didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing us. Every head was bowed.
I shivered. They weren’t protesting. They were praying.
Zed’s voice was nearly a whisper in the back seat. “Cool.”