thirty-three

My eyes flew open. I stared at my client where she rested in the bed, eyes closed, lashes dark on her cheeks, during a brief respite from the pains.

Lyda couldn’t have murdered the much taller Rowena, not in her advanced gravid stage. So she must have abetted Elbridge in the deed. Or put him up to it. And sent him to hit me on the head, too. Thus her odd tone of voice when she asked if I was hurt a few minutes ago. But why try to do away with your midwife when your birth is imminent? I’d think about that later.

Right now I had to decide what to do despite my aching brain roiling with confused thoughts. I had to tell Kevin, but there was no way I could leave the house to find him. I couldn’t confront Lyda, not while she was in the throes of her travails. And with my head in this condition, I couldn’t very well spare Annie, either. What about the maid? Maybe I could scribble a note for her to take to the police station. But what if she read it? Her first loyalty might be to her employers. Wait. I’d seen a—

Lyda let out a long grunting sound, a sure sign she was experiencing the urge to push. I was going to have to check her again. Women could tear badly if they pushed before the opening to the womb was fully dilated, but usually the urge didn’t come until the body was truly ready to expel the baby. I rose ever so carefully.

“Lyda, try not to push quite yet,” I said. I perched on the side of the bed next to her, but this time kept my head in an upright position. “I’m going to check you again.” Now when I slid my hand in I felt five knuckles-worth of opening. “Very good. Thy baby will be along soon.” I wiped off my hand and hurried to the desk under the window even as Lyda let out a long moan. Finding paper and a pencil, I scribbled a note for Annie. I’d seen a telephone downstairs. I prayed it would be in good working order.

Lyda and husband murdered Rowena. Thee must telephone police downstairs. Tell them to find him. Hurry.

I beckoned to her. She scanned my words and looked up, her eyebrows up, her eyes fearful. I held a finger to my lips.

“Go,” I whispered. Please let Elbridge not be about, and let none of the house staff hear Annie using the telephone. Lyda didn’t present a threat to us, unless she had a gun in her nightstand drawer, but her husband would certainly be dangerous if he returned home to find Annie talking to the authorities.

Annie glanced over her shoulder with wide eyes at Lyda, then hurried out the door.

Lyda commenced to make the deep guttural noise of a woman about to give birth. I moved to the head of the bed. My first obligation was, as ever, to produce a healthy baby without harm to its mother.

“Sit up more now, Lyda.” I put my hands under her armpits and assisted, but the effort brought on a new wave of pain in my head and nausea in my gut. I blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the bed again, willing the pounding, the sick sensation, to go away. “Bring thy knees up and thy chin down, and give a good push.”

She did so even as she cried out, her face reddening with the effort. I felt my own face turn the opposite color, knowing if I looked in a glass I would be pale from pain. When she was spent, she fell back against the pillows.

“It’s harder this time, Rose,” she wailed. “Why? I thought it was supposed to get easier.”

Maybe because thee has a guilty conscience. I palpated her belly again. “I’m quite sure the baby is head down.” I gently pressed my fingers in and around the top of the womb. “Yes, this is his rump, not his head. And his back is on top, which is good. I can feel his spine. Maybe he’s tipping his face up, though, which presents a larger area to the opening.” I made a ring with both hands and placed it back on the crown of my head without touching my wound. “See?”

She gazed dully at me.

“When that part presents at the mouth of the womb, the head is birthed more easily than if this part does.” I moved the ring to encircle the top of my head nearest the brow.

“Will my baby still come out?”

“Of course. Don’t worry. It just might take a little longer. Thee has only been pushing for a couple of minutes.”

Another contraction set in, and another, and another. Still Annie didn’t return. Still the child remained inside Lyda. My heart sank to the cellar. Annie was in trouble. I knew it.