The Midwife's Dilemma by Delia Parr

one more cookie.“I do believe I’ve earned the right to eat dessert first today,” she offered, making it clear by the tone of her voice that she was not apologizing one iota.
    â€œI’m not suggesting you haven’t. All I’m saying is that having dessert before dinner is one of your more endearing habits I’ve discovered over the years.”
    She huffed. “What you mean is that I’m predictable.”
    â€œExactly,” he replied and turned his attention to devouring his biscuit and quickly filling another one with cheese.
    Annoyed by his response, she looked more closely at him. When she noted the thin, jagged scar on the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger, a battle scar he had suffered last year when he had rescued Will from drowning, she recalled the boy’s claim that all females were unpredictable. Maybe it was time she made herself a bit unpredictable in the hope that she could nip at some of his confidence.
    She smiled at him. “You seem to relish making fun of my little habits,” she retorted playfully, although she accepted the fact that he was far more skilled at flirtatious banter than she was or ever could be.
    â€œSad to say, I’m at a disadvantage in that regard since I have so many more foibles than you do,” he protested and snatched a molasses cookie from her plate.
    Martha polished off the last of her fritter. “Perhaps that’s a topic we’ll save for a discussion another day, since I have more important questions about the time you were away. And about why you couldn’t write to explain the reason you were delayed or how long you might be instead of leaving me to worry about all of you,” she added.
    He set his cookie down on his plate, and his expression sobered. “I traveled with Fern and Ivy as their escort and friend, but I was also their lawyer. I still am, and while I can talk aboutsome things, there are others I can’t discuss with you at all because I can’t break the confidentiality I owe to them.”
    Reluctantly, she nodded. As a midwife, she also shared a sacred trust with her patients, and there were times when it was awkward, if not incredibly hard, to maintain that trust. She had never once divulged any of the private information she was privy to during the course of her work in too many households to count, and she was proud of the respect she had earned as a result.
    He let out a long breath. “What I can tell you is that Fern and Ivy have nothing to worry about now.”
    â€œThey told me as much, although we hadn’t quite finished our conversation when I was summoned out to the Crowder farm. They will no doubt explain the rest as they see fit, but I’m still confused as to why none of you could write anything after the single post you sent to let me know that you’d be delayed a short while before coming home.”
    He took her hand. “I’m sorry, but all I can tell you now is that we spent a great deal of time in Philadelphia, but we also had to travel to Harrisburg and a fair number of smaller towns before we even located Mr. Pennington. Between the bad weather, the abominable roads, and the need to file any number of legal petitions just to keep those two sisters from doing anything illegal, there were actually days when I wasn’t even certain of the name of the inn or even the town where we were staying.”
    â€œIt sounds exhausting,” she admitted, feeling downright foolish and completely selfish for expecting Thomas or the two sisters to write to her when they obviously had so much to do.
    Turning her hand, she entwined her fingers with his and tightened her hold. “You’re a good man, Thomas. A good friend. And a good lawyer. And I suspect you might make an awfully good husband. Now that you’re home again, we can take ourtime and sort through our concerns properly,” she said as bittersweet memories came to the