would make Giselle leave and never return?
Zed leaned back in his chair, his big brown eyes shaded by his bangs.
“Do you ever think about your birth family?” I asked.
“Nope.” He crossed his arms. “Never.” His voice was firm.
I slid the computer back to him and he smiled.
The rain continued as we left the restaurant. Surely Peggy was home by now. She was probably finishing the dinner dishes and urging her four-year-old toward bed. Her older sons had probably carried in the groceries and unhitched the horse. Her husband was probably checking the livestock one last time and thinking about which field to plow in the morning, as long as the rain stopped.
When we reached the cottage, Ella and Zed were in a good mood as we clattered up the steps to the porch. The lights were off on the first floor, and Ella felt around for the switch. The computer was turned off too. The clear opening of the woodstove showed that a fire was burning, hot and bright.
“Mom?” Ella called up the stairs.
There wasn’t an answer.
“She’s probably out in her office,” I said.
“I’ll check.” Ella stepped out the door as Zed sat down at the computer. I stopped in front of the stove, warming my hands.
Ella returned a few moments later. “She’s out there making phone calls. She wants to see you,” she said to me.
When I got there, Marta was sitting at her desk with only a small reading lamp on. She wore her cape and didn’t have the heat on in the room. There were shadows under her eyes, and she wore her black bonnet. She looked like a woman who was ready to flee.
“Sit down,” she said, motioning to the chair by the door and then returning to the paper in front of her. She made a mark and then looked up again. “The grand jury convened today.” Her voice was monotone. “I’m to be arraigned Wednesday.”
I wasn’t surprised. “What are the charges?”
“Negligent homicide.” She squinted as she talked. “The autopsy came back Friday and was presented to the jury. There were no signs of a heart defect. No indication of cardiac arrest. So they assume it was my negligence because I didn’t call 911 sooner, based on Lydia’s blood pressure.”
“Are they surmising it was preeclampsia-induced shock?” It was the third leading cause of death in late-term and postpartum women.
“I’m guessing that’s it.”
“What do you think?” I shot Marta a quick look. Her face was expressionless.
“She didn’t have any of the other signs. No swelling. The baby was full term. No abdominal pain.”
“What about fatigue?”
Marta inhaled and then exhaled slowly. “Most women who are nine months pregnant suffer from fatigue.” She had a point. Still, preeclampsia sounded plausible to me.
“The autopsy should have shown if it was preeclampsia, though. Elevated liver enzymes. Low platelets.”
“Those results were inconclusive,” Marta said. “A little high for the liver enzymes. Borderline for the platelets.”
“How high was her blood pressure?”
“It spiked at 160/110. That’s when I told her she needed to go to the hospital.”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but do you have some savings set aside? Some way to cover the bills until this whole mess is taken care of and you can practice again?”
“Not really,” she said vaguely.
“How about your bail? Any idea how much that will be?”
She tilted her head. “Excuse me?”
“Your bail. How high will it be?” I didn’t even ask whether or not she’d be able to pay me the small amount we’d agreed on that she owed me. I already knew the answer to that. Thankfully I had some money set aside.
She spread her palms flat on the desktop. “I don’t know,” she answered. “My lawyer didn’t say.”
I couldn’t imagine her bail would be all that high. She wasn’t exactly a flight risk, even though she looked like it right now. “When is my replacement arriving?”
She tapped her finger on the list. “I’ve called close to thirty different midwives from Pennsylvania and nearby states. I’m expecting a return call—maybe a couple—tomorrow. Then I’ll know.”
I was sure she was stalling. I would bet good money that she didn’t have a couple of prospects, or even one, ready to call. What would happen to the mothers who were expecting her care? And what would happen to Ella and Zed? Would they be eating oatmeal for dinner? What if Marta couldn’t post bail and ended up in jail? Surely someone from their church would come through and help. It wasn’t my responsibility.
But they were my cousins…
Birth