herbs off of her lap. “I shall return in a few minutes.” She turned and marched down the path. “Lord, don’t let—” She stopped. No sense to pray for the men to remain behind. God didn’t listen, let alone answer.
As though proving her point, boot heels crunched along the overgrown and leaf-strewn path. Zach or Griff? Long, easy strides eating up the ground. Griff. Zach walked faster with a shorter gait.
She stopped and turned. “Please, I’d like to talk to Bethann alone.”
“Not sure you should.” Griff smiled at her in that eye-crinkling way that made her insides feel like plucked strings on the church’s old harpsichord. “She’s taken a dislike to you.”
And she wasn’t going to like Esther any more in the next few minutes.
She hesitated. She need not go. Bethann wouldn’t welcome her. Esther’s aid hadn’t been requested.
But she had watched her mother rush off at all hours of the day or night to help someone in need. And as Esther paused at the end of the path, Bethann moaned at the edge of the stream.
Esther spun on her heel and bounded to the other woman’s side. Bethann stood bent over with her arms taut across her waist, her hands gripping her elbows as though she held her guts inside, which she just might feel she was doing.
“Bethann.” Esther reached out to rest a hand on the older woman’s shoulder but drew it back at the last moment. “I can help you. I have some gingerroot and peppermint oil in my—”
“Don’t need any of your fancy know-it-all doctoring.” Bethann turned her face away. “This’ll pass.”
“It should have passed already, and you’re far too thin. You’re not eat—”
Bethann turned on Esther with a sound like a snarl. She jumped back, glancing toward the end of the path to see if Griff remained in proximity. She might need his aid after all.
He stood there as still as the trees on either side of him, face tense, mouth grim.
“What would you know of this?” Bethann demanded. “Pretty little preacher’s daughter who has to seek trouble because you don’t know what it is?”
If only you knew.
Esther set her hands on her hips and glared at Bethann. “You don’t know anything about me, Miss Tolliver. I might be pretty, but that’s not my fault, and I’m scarcely little. As for trouble . . .” She took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t known the kind you’re in, but I’ve seen my share—”
“Where?” Bethann snorted. “At tea parties and the like?”
“When I’ve examined women.” Esther took a step forward to ensure only Bethann heard what she had to say. “I am a fully qualified midwife and have been for three years. I apprenticed with my mother for three before that.”
For a moment, Bethann’s eyes widened. Her jaw hung slack. Then she flung her head and shoulders back and her hands forward, palms slamming into Esther’s chest. “You lie. You don’t know anything. You can’t. It’s not true. Do you hear me? Not true.”
“Four months.” Esther managed the two words through chattering teeth and a haze of memories that wanted to intrude.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Griff moving forward and waved him back.
“Maybe five,” she added.
“No.” Bethann shot her head forward like a chicken about to pick up a tasty bug. “I’ll deny any such thing, and you’ll be gone without an escort back to your momma.”
“Of course I’ll say nothing.” Esther tried the gentle smile she’d practiced in the mirror to resemble Momma’s. “It’s part of my training to keep secrets.”
“See that you do. This ain’t nobody’s business but mine.”
And the father’s. And God’s. And perhaps Bethann’s parents, despite her age, since she lived at home.
“You’re right.” Esther nodded. “It isn’t any of my business unless you ask for my assistance.” She held out her hand, palm up.
Bethann hesitated a moment, then touched her fingertips to Esther’s in a feathery acknowledgment of
As though proving her point, boot heels crunched along the overgrown and leaf-strewn path. Zach or Griff? Long, easy strides eating up the ground. Griff. Zach walked faster with a shorter gait.
She stopped and turned. “Please, I’d like to talk to Bethann alone.”
“Not sure you should.” Griff smiled at her in that eye-crinkling way that made her insides feel like plucked strings on the church’s old harpsichord. “She’s taken a dislike to you.”
And she wasn’t going to like Esther any more in the next few minutes.
She hesitated. She need not go. Bethann wouldn’t welcome her. Esther’s aid hadn’t been requested.
But she had watched her mother rush off at all hours of the day or night to help someone in need. And as Esther paused at the end of the path, Bethann moaned at the edge of the stream.
Esther spun on her heel and bounded to the other woman’s side. Bethann stood bent over with her arms taut across her waist, her hands gripping her elbows as though she held her guts inside, which she just might feel she was doing.
“Bethann.” Esther reached out to rest a hand on the older woman’s shoulder but drew it back at the last moment. “I can help you. I have some gingerroot and peppermint oil in my—”
“Don’t need any of your fancy know-it-all doctoring.” Bethann turned her face away. “This’ll pass.”
“It should have passed already, and you’re far too thin. You’re not eat—”
Bethann turned on Esther with a sound like a snarl. She jumped back, glancing toward the end of the path to see if Griff remained in proximity. She might need his aid after all.
He stood there as still as the trees on either side of him, face tense, mouth grim.
“What would you know of this?” Bethann demanded. “Pretty little preacher’s daughter who has to seek trouble because you don’t know what it is?”
If only you knew.
Esther set her hands on her hips and glared at Bethann. “You don’t know anything about me, Miss Tolliver. I might be pretty, but that’s not my fault, and I’m scarcely little. As for trouble . . .” She took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t known the kind you’re in, but I’ve seen my share—”
“Where?” Bethann snorted. “At tea parties and the like?”
“When I’ve examined women.” Esther took a step forward to ensure only Bethann heard what she had to say. “I am a fully qualified midwife and have been for three years. I apprenticed with my mother for three before that.”
For a moment, Bethann’s eyes widened. Her jaw hung slack. Then she flung her head and shoulders back and her hands forward, palms slamming into Esther’s chest. “You lie. You don’t know anything. You can’t. It’s not true. Do you hear me? Not true.”
“Four months.” Esther managed the two words through chattering teeth and a haze of memories that wanted to intrude.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Griff moving forward and waved him back.
“Maybe five,” she added.
“No.” Bethann shot her head forward like a chicken about to pick up a tasty bug. “I’ll deny any such thing, and you’ll be gone without an escort back to your momma.”
“Of course I’ll say nothing.” Esther tried the gentle smile she’d practiced in the mirror to resemble Momma’s. “It’s part of my training to keep secrets.”
“See that you do. This ain’t nobody’s business but mine.”
And the father’s. And God’s. And perhaps Bethann’s parents, despite her age, since she lived at home.
“You’re right.” Esther nodded. “It isn’t any of my business unless you ask for my assistance.” She held out her hand, palm up.
Bethann hesitated a moment, then touched her fingertips to Esther’s in a feathery acknowledgment of
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