The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,91
blossoms and the scent in the late spring and summer.
“My mother thought roses a waste of time,” Sean said. “When I was little, I vowed to have a garden of them when I was grown.”
“Did you put all of this in?” I asked, impressed.
“I hired someone to do the work.”
Of course he did. It would have taken months and months otherwise.
“I’ll take a few with me,” he said. “But I’ll most likely get an apartment or a condo in Baltimore. C’est la vie.” He smiled but there was sorrow in his eyes.
“When will you put your place on the market?” I asked, thinking about Dad’s property back home.
“Today.” He stepped back into his office.
“That soon?” I laughed. There was nothing passive about Dr. Benson.
“They’re putting up the sign tomorrow.”
He showed me the downstairs bath and a small guestroom down the hall and then we ended up back in the kitchen. He didn’t say anything about not showing me the upstairs and I didn’t ask. I imagined a huge master suite with a Jacuzzi tub, like something I’d see on HGTV.
He had coleslaw and chips to go with the sandwiches, and in no time we were sitting in a little nook off the kitchen, eating as Sean talked about the ins and outs of restoring an old house. I thought, although the new job sounded really cool, that it was a shame he had to sell his first home and said so.
He shrugged. “I knew I wouldn’t be here long.”
“Still,” I said. “It has to be hard.” I could so easily imagine living in this house. It was clean and comfortable and seemed easy to manage. Everything I wanted in a home. In a life, to be honest.
“Oh, well,” he said. “There’s no reason to get too attached to things. I won’t live in Baltimore long either. I’m not planning on putting roots down until I know where I want to settle for good.”
I admired his confidence—a lot.
“How about you?” he said. “After Philadelphia, where do you want to go?”
Even though I knew I planned to go back to Oregon, I said, “I’m not sure.”
“How about med school? At Johns Hopkins.” His eyes were lively. “I could write you a recommendation.”
“Med school? Why would I—” my phone beeped and I glanced at the screen—“do that?” It was Marta. I had a client in labor.
“Because you would make a great OB doc.”
“How do you know?” I texted Marta back as I spoke, saying I was on my way.
“I can tell,” he said.
“Well, right now I have a baby to deliver. Sorry to eat and run.” I stood.
“See, working in a hospital would be easier. You’d be scheduled to work or you would be off—you wouldn’t be at the mercy of nature.”
“I’m rather fond of nature,” I joked, following him into the dining room. We were silent through the dining room and living room.
“Hey,” he said, retrieving my coat in the entryway and then holding it for me to slip into. “Text me when you’re safely done, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night. I’ll worry otherwise.”
Touched I reached for his hand and squeezed it. For a moment I wanted him to kiss me, but then I waffled and stepped back quickly. “Sorry to rush off.”
“Thanks for coming,” he said, opening the door. “Let’s try it again. I’ll fix a real meal. And perhaps you’ll be able to stay for the whole thing.” He smiled, but I could tell he was tired. I nodded and hurried to my car. The light rain had turned cold.
TWENTY-THREE
The labor turned out to be false, and I was back at Marta’s and in my little bed by two a.m., updating Sean with a quick text. The next morning Marta told me that the one appointment I had that day had been canceled, so I decided finally to go to Harrisburg to see what I could find as far as a copy of my birth certificate. It was a Friday and my best chance at making some more progress on that end.
I now had two weeks until I needed to report to work in Philadelphia. I was tempted to call and say I needed another month. That way I would leave Lancaster County at the same time Sean did. My mind started racing as I packed my computer and grabbed my purse.
Once I was in the car, I tapped in the address to the vital records department in Harrisburg in my GPS and was on my