The Midwife's Choice by Delia Parr Page A

remain so trim, even when she was teeming.
    Loving sweets might be all they really had in common, save for one seventeen-year-old girl who was precious to them both.

    Martha finished her third cup of tea and read through all the references again. She reached for another cookie and found it hard to believe the plate was empty. Empty? She groaned and found little solace in what she had read, either.
    If she believed only half of what each person had written, she would be forced to put a halo around June Morgan’s head. No one could possibly be that saintly. Or kind. Or generous.
    Being skeptical, even with all the references that lay before her, was being cautious, not unfair, and Victoria was too precious, too priceless to risk.
    She looked at June and pointed to the letters. “All this is well and good, but references can be . . .” She almost said forged , butcaught herself. It would serve no purpose to offend the woman, especially if she were all the references claimed her to be. “The references can be considered, but I’ll have to confirm them, of course. Since we’re so far from New York City, it will take time.”
    â€œOf course. Write to any or all of the people who provided the references. Except for Mrs. O’Malley. She relies on me to do that for her.”
    â€œBeyond that, I still have reservations,” Martha countered.
    June wiped the corner of her lips with a napkin. “Please. Go ahead. I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.”
    Did the woman have to be so . . . so sweet?
    Martha folded her hands and laid them on top of the table and decided to cut right to the vortex of her concern. “How can I be certain you won’t hire Victoria as your permanent replacement so she’ll want to stay in New York instead of returning home to Trinity in the fall?”
    â€œI give you my word,” June responded. “Victoria shows great promise, but she’s still relatively inexperienced. It would be several years before she would be qualified—”
    â€œBut she might want to stay on as an assistant, like she is now,” Martha argued.
    â€œI’ll make it clear that staying in any capacity is not an option.” She smiled. “You and I are very much alike, you know. I don’t think Victoria truly realizes that yet.”
    â€œWe are,” she insisted when Martha’s mouth dropped open. “We’re both capable, efficient women with a strong sense of duty and faith. We’re both blessed with good constitutions and a strong will that’s both a blessing and curse.”
    Martha huffed. “Nevertheless, our worlds couldn’t be more different.”
    â€œTrue, but it’s what we each do with the gifts we have been given that matters. I was raised to believe that wealth and position are gifts that should be used to benefit many. That’s why I started the magazine. I admire the work you do. Helping sickwomen and children and delivering babies are gifts, but they’re not mine. And they’re not Victoria’s. They’re yours. But each of our gifts is equal in His sight because He chose to give them to us, and we must all use our gifts to His glory. That’s the message I hope my magazine carries to women everywhere.”
    It was a message that touched Martha’s heart and eased some of her reluctance to admit June might be all she had presented herself to be. And more.
    An urgent series of knocks at the back door interrupted their conversation, reminding Martha that only that morning Russell Clifford had knocked at that door, summoning her to duty. Fearful that Nancy might have taken a turn for the worse and Russell had returned to summon Martha again, she rushed to the door. Much to her relief, she found young Dr. McMillan shivering outside.
    â€œI s-saw the light and hoped it was y-you. S-still up,” he chattered. “I . . . I hope I’m not