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Chapter Fourteen

Spring, 1679

Within a few weeks, Rebekah’s early morning nausea was replaced by a sudden craving for eggs. No matter how many eggs John gathered from under the hens each morning, she craved more.
“But why?” John asked. “You have consumed two eggs this very morn and still you want a third?”
“I cannot explain myself, John. But I have witnessed such cravings in many women as they grow big with child. There is no need to worry. I am certain my sudden love of eggs will pass soon enough.”
“If not, wife, your voice and speech may become one long clucking sound, and where will we be then, I pray?”
Rebecca laughed out loud. “You will be my rooster!” She poked her husband, flapped her arms awkwardly, and let out a loud crowing sound.”
All John could do was laugh. “Wife, you are impossible not to love.” And with that, he gave her a gentle kiss and reached for his doublet. “I am promised to meet Jasper at the kettle pond. He claims to have seen striped bass in the water, ready for the skillet, but we shall see. I should be back before sunset.”
“I may be away when you return. I must visit Eliza Wiley this day. She is nearly full-term now but this will be her first child. She is concerned things go well. Her cousin who lives not ten miles north lost her newborn just two months past and Eliza is full of fear and anxiety. I have prepared a calming tea for her. She is in the most excellent health and there is nothing to fear. Still, a tonic of calming herbs will do much good.”
John looked at his wife and smiled. “And you are just the one to bring it to her. You should take Pacer to make the journey that much shorter. I hope your visit gives Eliza the peace she needs, Bekah.”
“I pray so.”
By the time the sun was in the midheaven, Pacer and Rebekah had made the short journey to Eliza Wiley’s front door. Her husband, Matthias, met Rebekah at the entrance. He looked frantic.
“What’s wrong Matthias? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”
“No ghost, Miss, but a warning. Eliza swears she heard the voice of her cousin and the cry of the dying babe. She is in a wild state of mind, Miss. I fear for our unborn child.”
Rebekah did not hesitate. She handed the reigns of the horse to Matthias and went directly to her patient’s bedside.
Eliza was bathed in a sweat, her arms and legs restless and shifting from one side of the bed to the other. Several neighbor women, eager to help with the birth, stood at both the foot and the head of the bed, waiting for orders from Rebekah.
Rebekah placed a hand on each of Eliza’s arms. “Eliza, can you hear me? This is Rebekah Rand, midwife, come to help you today.”
Eliza opened her eyes but could not focus on Rebekah’s face. Instead, she kept turning her head from one side to the other as if shaking her off.
“Eliza, can you hear me?” Rebekah took the woman’s head firmly in her own hands and spoke directly to her. “Eliza, you need to quiet yourself. There is no need for you to fear. I have prepared a special tea that will soothe you.”
“Tea?” Eliza murmured.
“A calming tea made from herbs from my own garden.“ She pointed at the kettle on the hearth and one of the neighbor women brought it close, placing a large empty mug next to the kettle on the table. Rebecca removed a small linen bag from her satchel and tightened the narrow string that bound the top edge, creating a small bag of tea.
“What have you there, Mistress?” one of the women asked. “A sleeping drought or potion?”

“No, nothing so strong. She needs to be awake during the birthing of her child. I have prepared a simple blend of herbs, camomile and valerian to help Eliza relax. I fear she is over anxious.”
“I wonder at your boldness, midwife.” One of the neighbors who had gathered spoke up. It was Mistress Warren, wife of the minister. “How can you be certain your concoctions are safe for a gentle soul like Eliza to take? Has Doctor Taylor given his approval?”
Surprised at being questioned, Rebekah found herself on the defense. “I do not require Doctor Taylor’s approval, Mistress Warren. This is a calming tea, safe for anyone to drink, and particularly helpful to those who are anxious. Perhaps you would like to try a cup?” She could not help but hear a stifled gasp from one of the women gathered at the foot of the bed.
At that moment Mathias entered the room and hearing Rebekah’s remark, spoke up. “Eliza worries too much. I have told her all will be well. I believe, with you, Mistress Rebekah at her side, she is in good hands.”

“And so it shall be. All will be well.” Rebekah placed the small linen pouch into the mug and poured hot water from the kettle. “This tea should soothe her troubled spirit.”
“I pray it does so quickly,” Matthias explained. “I have lost half the day’s planting trying to calm her. I need to return to my fields or there will be naught growing for spring harvest.”
Rebekah could see he was anxious but whether for the health of his wife or the planting of spring corn, she could not say. “You should take some tea as well, Matthias. It should not be too long now. Your wife is healthy and strong and is very near to giving birth within this very hour. I venture to say you will be back out in the fields no later than sundown if that is what you want.”
Matthias could only nod in agreement.

Rebekah then turned to Eliza and gave all her attention to her patient. The neighbor women assisted as needed and by mid-afternoon, a beautiful baby boy was delivered, swaddled, and lying in his mother’s arms.
Mathias beamed with pride. “There is not more than thanksgiving we can give you, Mistress Rebekah, for all your kindness.” He pressed nine shillings into her palm. “Your payment, Mistress, and thank you for all you have done. As you promised, your tea calmed my dear wife’s spirit and now we are truly blessed with a strong son.”

That evening as she rode Pacer back towards her cottage, Rebekah reflected on all that had passed. It had been a good day and an easy birth once the mother was made to relax. She was proud of her work and glad everything had gone so well for both mother and child. But she could not help but wonder at the challenge to her judgment she had heard from Mistress Warren. Was her place as midwife to the village safe and secure?
Once home and Pacer groomed and in his stall, Rebekah prepared the vegetable stew for John’s evening meal. It was the third day of reheating and though grateful for having a thick soup, Rebekah could only hope he might return with a bit of fresh fish for the pot. Perhaps a bit of boiled bread would fill their stomachs? She opened the storage bin and considered what she had at the ready she might add to the table.
Boiled bread would have to do. She sifted a bit of cornmeal into a bowl of hot water, added crushed nuts and berries, and formed the sticky goo into three thick circles of dough before dropping them into a second pot of boiling water. It might take as long as an hour for the bread to be properly done and she knew her husband preferred his bread to be served warm. With luck, the bread would cook while the stew boiled and all would be ready by the time John was home.
Since rising early that morning, Rebekah had taken little time for herself. But now, as the sun’s light faded behind the pines along the eastern shoreline, she sat at the table near the front window and penned a few remarks in her journal, recounting the events of the day nearly done. She wanted to record the unsettling questions raised that morning at the Wiley homestead. She had no wish to confront her neighbors over the question of her being a good midwife. She treated all her patients with kindness and compassion and relied on her reputation to recommend her skill.
“I certainly do not need approval from a so-called local doctor or from a minister for that matter,” she thought to herself. She was still fuming when John entered the cottage.
“Greetings, wife,” he grinned and dropped his satchel by the door. “I can tell by my nose the evening meal is nearly ready.”
“Only a vegetable stew, nothing fancy.” She walked to the hearth and gave the stew a quick turn with the ladle. “Did you chance to catch anything we could add to the pot? Fish or fowl, it makes no matter. Either would be a welcome addition.”
John did not answer but reached into the pocket of his coat and extracted a small bouquet of yellow flowers. “Found these on the pathway home and thought you might enjoy the color.”
Rebekah smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Goldenrod! They are beautiful, John but unfortunately I can’t keep them.”
“Why not?”
“They make me sneeze!” She backed up and stifled a sneeze as John attempted to hand the flowers to his wife. “You are sweet to bring me such a gift, but if you truly love me, take them away.” She covered her face with one hand while she pointed to the door with the other.
“I am truly sorry. They looked so beautiful in the field.”
“And that is where they should stay.”
John crossed to the front door and tossed the bundle of yellow blossoms out into the night. “Lesson learned,” he stated. “Next time I will bag beach roses as your gift. You do not sneeze at beach roses do you?”
“I do not.”
“Good to hear it is so.”