A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (feel good books to read txt) 📕

Chapter Twenty-one

I awoke the next morning to a world covered in white. And a man bringing me coffee in bed.

“Good morning, my lovely wife. Did you get enough sleep?” He set the coffee on the small table by the bed and perched next to me with a smile.

“What time is it?” I pushed up to sitting and rubbed my eyes.

“Seven thirty.”

I blinked. “Did I just sleep for twelve hours?” After we’d eaten a simple supper of leftover stew and bread last evening, I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes open.

“You did, my dear. And well needed the rest, I expect.”

“Apparently. Grief is exhausting, although I’ve been so busy since Orpha passed, I think I’ve been burying it, not allowing it to rise up and overtake me.” I sipped the milky coffee. “This is heaven, husband. I thank thee.”

He smoothed back a lock of my hair. “What do you have planned for this day?”

“Let’s see.” I frowned, picturing my schedule. “It’s Sixth Day. I have a full morning of prenatal visits, and I’ll stop by Esther’s this afternoon to check on her baby. Oh, and I’ll visit Alma to find out about any funeral arrangements. Maybe my new garments will be ready, as well.”

“Sounds busy. Shall we eat at the Grand Hotel tonight? We’ll have a delicious dinner, and neither of us will have to cook.”

“That would be wonderful.” I gazed at him. “Thee is all dressed and ready to go. Would thee ever consider opening an office here in Amesbury instead of having to go across the bridge every day? I know we’ve discussed it before, but it seems that now would be a good time.”

He touched my nose. “I have an appointment this very afternoon to look at a possible space. Did you read my mind?” He laughed. “I want to be closer by after the baby comes.”

“I would like knowing thee was nearer to hand. Thee could come home for a midday meal together, too.”

“Exactly. For now, I’d better be off.” He kissed my lips, then stood. “I expect you’re going to add sleuthing on top of all your other tasks today.”

“I might, just a little.”

“You’ll be careful, dear Rosie. Please?”

I extended my hand. “Only if I get another kiss before thee leaves.”

The kiss having been accomplished to our mutual satisfaction, he was gone. I sat in bed with my coffee, feeling much pampered and refreshed.

Our lovely bedroom was at the back of the house. The neighboring house was situated far enough down the hill that we had no need to draw the shades at night. I watched through the window as sunlight played with snow-coated branches, making the tall sugar maple outside sparkle with diamond-studded fur. When a squirrel alit on a branch, the white stuff slid off. March snows weren’t the kind to stick around and accumulate.

As we approached the spring equinox, the days were long enough to melt snow not long after it fell. My list of tasks, as David put it, was also long. I should rouse myself and get started on it. But first I ran my mind’s eye down the notes I’d begun yesterday morning. I could add Pete Beaumont’s myopia to it, and William’s financial troubles. Prudence’s drinking problem might play a role, too, although I couldn’t think of what.

A visit to Kevin might be in order after I’d finished with my clients, and a talk with Wilson. And seeing Alma, where reminders of Orpha would be everywhere.

I finally took a moment to think back on my many memories of my mentor. Her taking both my hands, gazing into my face, and agreeing to take me on as her apprentice. I’d summoned my courage and asked her after I had helped out at my niece Betsy’s birth ten years ago, a birth Orpha had assisted my sister with. The day when Orpha had said I was ready to attend births on my own and soon after had offered me her own practice, declaring she was too old to continue staying up all night with laboring women. The countless times I’d gone to her for counsel about difficult pregnancies, techniques for breech and twin births, solace after a newborn had died at only minutes or hours old. And for her wisdom when I was on the track of a murderer. Rather than tell me what to do, she would ask me questions until the answer arose.

I heard her voice in my head now. “I have every confidence in you, Rose.”

I’d better get on with it, then.

Chapter Twenty-two

I was busy with paperwork in my office at half past eight when I glanced up at a knock. I wasn’t expecting my first client until nine, but two women stood outside, and I could see through the lace curtain that one was my blind friend Jeanette Papka. Her hand was tucked through the elbow of Frannie Eisenman, a woman I’d met through the Amesbury Woman Suffrage Association a couple of years ago. I had a pang, remembering my aunt’s teenage ward, also named Frannie, who had been murdered last fall. I pulled the door open.

“Jeanette? How nice to see thee, and Frannie, too. Please come in.”

I shut the door after them, wondering what they’d come about. Frannie’s frizzed dark hair was shot through with silver. I’d delivered her grandbaby a year and a half ago. She was unlikely to be pregnant. I’d caught Jeanette’s very large son Owen at his birth last Tenth Month and hoped she wasn’t carrying another baby so soon.

“Please sit here, Jeanette.” I led her to my chair. “Frannie, does thee mind the chaise?” I pulled out a stool from the corner and perched on it. “What can I help with today? Is either of thee—?”

Jeanette threw her head back and laughed. “Good heavens, no, Rose. Neither of us is pregnant.”

Frannie snorted. “I went through the change a decade ago, thank goodness.”

“And my boy is such a lusty nursling, I can’t imagine my