Chapter Twenty-Five
Mid-Winter, 1680
Two days passed before Rebekah could bring herself to acknowledge the truth about the death of her husband. Visitors arrived asking questions, suggesting explanations of what might have happened. Minister Warren came, offering advice and solace. Her apprentice, Emma, came to offer her condolences and used a blanket to cover the one mirror that hung in the large room. When Rebekah asked her why she said it was to prevent John’s spirit from being trapped by evil forces. It did not make sense to Rebekah but she did not have the energy to argue with the girl.
Rebekah stood in silence near the cottage door as a steady stream of friends and neighbors came to offer their condolences. Many brought food, sat near the fire and drank too much grog as they talked about the tragedy that one so young should be taken in such a fashion.
Neighbors told stories in honor of John, but for Rebekah it all happened as if in a fog—as if she were observing the scene from a far distance. Only little Ezra focused her mind and it was to her son alone, Rebekah gave all her attention.
The parish elders, led by Minister Warren, insisted on a small funeral. Rebekah forced herself to walk the two miles to the village burial ground with the neighbors who came. Farmer Birch volunteered his wagon to carry her husband’s body and Rebekah followed with little Ezra, tightly wrapped in blankets against the cold, the whole time praying her son would never remember the day his mother buried his father.
As the ground was frozen solid, two of the neighbors placed John’s body on a large flat stone in a corner of the common and built a cairn of stones to protect the corpse from wolves. They piled rocks one on top of another until the shroud was completely covered.
“Once, come spring, when the ground begins to thaw,” they explained, “we will return and give poor John a proper burial.” In the interim, Rebekah was told she could visit the spot anytime she wished.
Grateful for their care, she doubted she would return to the burial ground. It made little sense to her to visit graves. She never had and could not imagine herself doing so now. Instead, she resolved to focus her attention on her son Ezra, her healing work and the living souls who came to her for help.
She did not have much time to mourn her loss. Within a day of the funeral, two women in the village were ready to give birth and both required Rebekah to be in attendance.
A son was born to Caroline Boswell, wife of the village grocer. It was an easy birth without any complication. Rebekah was called out mid-morning and the child was delivered by late afternoon.
The second birth in as many days was much more difficult. Rebekah had long suspected that Temperance Cutler was carrying twins. The size of her belly and her diminished energy worried the midwife and Rebekah had warned the mother-to-be to take extra rest in anticipation of the birth. But Temperance did not heed Rebekah’s warnings and the birth of her twins was shadowed in tragedy. The boy was born healthy, but the girl died within the first hour.
When her apprentice arrived the following day, Rebekah tried to explain to Emma what difficulties the poor woman had endured.
“The twins were very different in size. The girl was much smaller than her brother and I could see she struggled to breathe from the first. Try as I might, there was little I could do to save her. I placed the babe in the loving arms of her sorrowful mother, and whispered a blessing. I leave the rest to God.
“But why did Temperance ignore your warnings to take the extra rest she needed?” Emma asked.
“How was she supposed to rest and still manage her household?” Rebekah answered, her voice edged with anger. “She has already mothered five children, and the oldest, a daughter, is not yet nine years of age. I know the girl does her best to help her mother with the chores, but there is so much to be done keeping both house and garden well-tended.”
“What of the Father?” Emma asked. “Surely he could do more.”
“I know Mr. Cutler is a good man and loves his family, but if he truly wants to keep his wife and family safe from harm, he needs to curb his appetite.”
“Are you saying he eats too much?” Emma wondered.
“I speak of his sexual appetite, Emma. He needs to keep his trousers in place. Temperance has given her husband a child every year for the past ten years. Five survived. Six if you take into account the son just born. Her body cannot endure another. I warned her but there is only so much a midwife can do.
“Surely the Cutler family does not blame you for their loss,” Emma declared. “I am sure you did all that could be done to save the child.”
“The sudden death of a baby is not so easily dismissed,” Rebekah explained. “When an infant dies so quickly after birth, or if a child is born with some malformation, it must be someone’s fault. Someone must be blamed and held accountable. And though I warned Temperance to be careful, she paid no heed. Wait and see, Emma, and mark my words. Blame for this tragedy will fall in my direction.”
“Surely not,” Emma argued. “It is a tragedy, but the “why of it” is hidden from us. We must look to God for the answer.”
Rebekah agreed, but added, “I fear God does not always answer our prayers and we are left in confusion. Within the coming week, Doctor Taylor will no doubt declare my sins are at the root of the problem with the Cutler child. It will be his word against mine.”
Emma frowned. “But it is all nonsense.”
“You and I may think so, Emma, but what we think is not so easily believed by our neighbors. If you intend to become a midwife, you must be prepared for the blame as well as the praise you will receive.”
“But, surely if you explain how it is things happen…” Emma’s voice trailed off.
“For some, there is no explanation. What we do with our care and ministrations is a mystery to most and we can only rely on the goodwill of our efforts to see us clear. There will always be those who think what we do borders on mystery. And I cannot fault them, Emma. I sometimes wonder at the miracles I encounter in my work.”
Emma looked determined. “In spite of what others may think or say, I am grateful for what you do for us, Rebekah, and I want to learn more.”
“And so you shall.”