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“’Tis a girl, Mrs. Halpert.”
Amelia looked to her friend. “Did you hear that? You have a little girl.”
Mrs. Halpert nodded, collapsing onto the bed as tears fell down her face. She reached toward Mrs. Fowler, but the woman looked pointedly at Amelia. “Will you clean her off, so she’s fit to meet her mama?”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Fowler turned her attention back to Mrs. Halpert. “Not quite done yet, but you’re nearly there.”
Amelia accepted the tiny, towel-wrapped bundle and carried her to the table beside the bed where Tabby had laid out the extra cloths. Over her shoulder, she caught Tabby’s attention. “Come pour this for me, please.”
Sliding her finger into the babe’s tiny hand, Amelia’s heart throbbed with love and longing in equal measure as the miniature fingers curled around her own.
It took a quarter-hour to clean the babe and wrap her in a fresh blanket, her muted cries filling the room with the beautiful sound only a newborn could make. When Amelia returned the baby to her mother, her heart squeezed at the perfect image they made. Joy filled her body, radiating with both warmth and fatigue, and she wiped her forehead with her wrist to move a stray hair from her eye.
“My sweet little Georgina,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks as she caressed her daughter’s soft face. The babe quieted at the sound of her mother’s voice, and the room seemed to go still for a moment before the hungry cries returned.
Mrs. Fowler moved about the bed, busying herself with undoing the sheets and rolling them back. Tabby appeared with a fresh set of linens, and Amelia stepped back to allow the women to expertly change the sheets around the new mother as she attempted to feed her babe.
Mrs. Fowler stepped forward to help Mrs. Halpert position her baby, and the little darling managed to eat, the cries ceasing at once. When the room had quieted and the heavy feeling had dissipated into a peaceful sense of accomplishment, Amelia finally left.
Closing the door behind her, she could not remove from her mind the image of Mrs. Halpert with her baby and the beautiful family they would be after Charles made her his wife. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes as silent tears welled up in her eyes.
Sometimes it felt as though fate mocked her. Losing her husbands had been difficult, even eerie in their timing and nature. Learning that she had feelings for Charles after putting him off for so many years was irritating in its own right—but then, that he loved another, after all this time? Amelia was a fool for putting him off for so long.
But Charles’s love for Mrs. Halpert had likely saved his life. If Amelia had succumbed to her weakness, to her desire for a family, she would have married Charles. And with her record, there was no way he would have survived the first year of their marriage.
No, it was a blessing indeed that he fell for Mrs. Halpert. It was safer this way.
The door opened beside her, and Mrs. Fowler stepped into the corridor.
Amelia was overcome with a rush of gratitude. “I cannot thank you enough—”
She put up a staying hand. “It was my pleasure. I have a special fondness for helping mothers.”
Amelia nodded.
“From Dr. Mason’s concerns, though, I admit I expected to find her in much worse condition.”
“She was quite a bit worse when he came to see you,” Amelia explained. “She has been steadily improving a little every day. The ginger tea made a good deal of difference for her.”
Mrs. Fowler nodded, knowingly. “But you did not believe it would?”
Amelia froze. Had her face given her away? How could the woman, in the dimness of the corridor, see so much? While she had not disbelieved in the ginger tea, necessarily, she had been wary of anything that came from a Cunning Woman. Mrs. Fowler’s friendly, open gaze was inviting, however, and Amelia chose to be honest. “After what I witnessed this evening, I would hesitate to doubt you ever again.”
“Ah, yes. But you didn’t doubt my abilities to help Mrs. Halpert with the birth tonight, did you?”
“No, I did not.”
The way she looked at Amelia, one would think Mrs. Fowler had been witness to all of the conversations where she had called the woman’s abilities false or said that she lacked credibility. They held one another’s gazes and understanding settled on Amelia. Whether by Hattie’s loose tongue or Mrs. Fowler’s uncanny ability to read minds, she knew far more than she should about Amelia’s feelings on the matter of magic.
And Amelia felt the need to defend herself.
“But of course I didn’t doubt your ability to help tonight. Your skills as a midwife were never in question. White magic, though? Hattie looking for the man she is meant to marry in a churchyard ritual? Curses? These things have no basis in fact.”
“Maybe not, but you need not believe for them to be real. It has been my experience that sometimes believing in something is enough to bring it to fruition, to make it true.” She slowed her voice, measuring her words. “Perhaps what some call magic is merely providing an avenue for others to discover what they need for themselves.”
Amelia leaned back, stunned. The woman herself didn’t believe in magic? She believed in helping others to…what? To simply believe?
