The Last Bloom Read online

  He laughed. “Then again with you so busy caring for sick folks, I probably wouldn’t get to see you much anyway.”

  “I should have made more time,” she said.

  “No, you should be doing just what it is you planned to do,” he countered. “And I’ll be doing what was planned for me to do.”

  “Take heart, Silas. Knowing you as I do, I don’t doubt for a second you won’t make it all your own with the unique and responsible way you do everything.” She smiled. “It will be all right, my dear nephew.” She patted his chest. “Trust your heart in all matters, as it is usually the first instincts we should listen to.”

  As she watched him walk down the front path to his house next door, she whispered a little prayer for his safety, happiness, and prosperity in his new life as master of Collins Stead.

  She slept fitfully, her dreams a jumble of what transpired throughout the day. That was always the way for her. What she lived by day, she replayed by night. And by morning she was drained, wishing she could just pull the quilt over her head and stay in bed.

  But that wasn’t an option, especially today, the day she was scheduled to pay a professional visit to Nora, who was nearing her due date. She smiled as she swung her legs off the bed. Who would have thought little, skinny, shy, Nora—her childhood friend and confidante—would one day be the wife of an attorney in the making and soon to be a mother?

  She frowned. “And who would have thought I’d be the one to deliver her baby.”

  After a quick meal of porridge and fruit, she reached for her bag and made her way out the door, only to find a bike waiting for her beside the front steps. In England she had used a bike to get around. All the nurses did, going to and fro through the streets much quicker and faster than those using other modes of travel. But this particular bike she knew well, as she had ridden on the handlebars many a time in route to childhood adventures.

  The note, attached by a pink ribbon, read:

  Not as fancy as a Model T Ford, but better than walking.

  Love,

  Silas

  She smiled through the tears welling in her eyes, glancing over at the house next door. It was quiet, except for one shutting and locking the front door. Upon spotting her, Ethan waved, then made his way to where she stood, a knapsack thrust over his right shoulder and dressed in traditional Apache garb.

  He smiled, his large green eyes glancing over at the bike. “He finally willed ole Nellie to you, huh?”

  She laughed. “That’s the truth, and I appreciate the gesture as I have quite an area in town to cover.” Then frowning, she indicated his mode of dress. “And where are you off too dressed traditionally?”

  “Well, my dear auntie,” he teased. “I’m on my way to fulfill my vision quest.” He sighed. “I’ve put it off for way too long.” Shrugging he added, “I thought if I didn’t fulfill this rite of passage, I’d be free from the responsibilities of being the tribe’s next chief, should anything happen to my father. But in view of the fact Silas is moving forward to his duties, shucking my own is no longer an option.” He glanced at his house. “This seemed like the ideal opportunity, with Papa bringing Mama, Anita, and Silas to catch the train, to slip away without a fuss.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “About five days, whereby I will channel the spirits of my ancestors, come back wise, and ready to do what the chief’s son must do when the time comes.”

  “Rites of passage,” she mused aloud. “We’re finally there—old enough to pick up where those before us left off and carry the torch until the next generation arrives.”

  “Both exciting and frightening,” he admitted. Glancing up at the morning sun, he added, “And it is time for me to be on my way.”

  “Godspeed,” she said.

  “And to you as well,” he countered, before making his way down the path.

  Sighing, she placed her bag in the front basket and released the kickstand. She wadded her skirt between her knees before climbing onto the bike’s seat. When she passed Ethan, he waved. She smiled and returned the farewell gesture before she rounded the corner, heading the bike toward Nora’s house.

  This morning’s call on Nora would be the very first time she visited her friend’s home. On the outside it was nicely landscaped with bushes and flowers, shuttered windows, and a porch complete with a swing. Nora and Cameron’s home stood out among the others on the street, Nora’s homey touches easy to spot. As well as the fact finances to keep the property well-kept wasn’t a problem.

  Cameron’s parents, though they couldn’t be classified as extremely wealthy, were comfortable financially. Edmond Dodd, a successful attorney with a thriving clientele in Eagle’s Landing, also tried and won cases in Willow Creek and even as far as Phoenix. Muriel Dodd, a school teacher who also did private tutoring, weaved and created beautiful blankets and sweaters that sold quite steadily at The Eagle’s Landing General Store and Remington’s Department Store in Willow Creek.

  Cameron Dodd, being the only child of such successful parents, became the recipient of an ample start to his law career, as well as owning a home of good means. Nora’s parents, Maggie and Eli Granger, weren’t struggling folks either, even with a crew of children to support. Maggie was the general store’s shopkeeper, and Eli ran a successful sheep ranch.

  When she knocked on the door, to her surprise Maggie answered, appearing somewhat harried, her graying, auburn hair in disarray around her plump, fair skin textured face.

  “’Tis by the grace o’ God yer scheduled to come by today,” she said breathlessly.

  She frowned. “Is Nora all right?”

  “Nay.” Maggie beckoned for Cassia to follow her down a long hallway to the last room on the left. “Her pains started about an hour ago, just as I arrived with homemade biscuits for the two o’ ye to enjoy with tea. And she’s been in labor ever since.”

  “Has Cameron been called?” She tightened the grip on the handle of her bag.

  “Nay, he can’t be reached. He’s gone with his father to Willow Creek on a case,” Maggie said. “But I’ve been able to get a hold o’ Muriel.” She opened the bedroom door. “She should be arrivin’ at any moment.”

  The bedroom was bright and airy, yellow flowered wallpaper accenting the pale yellow curtains, which were pulled back on the two windows situated on a far wall. Cassia smiled encouragingly at her friend and set her bag at the foot of the bed. “It’s time, then,” she said.

  Nora responded with a taut nod, her freckled cheeks flushed and the wisps of auburn curls framing a face glistening with perspiration. “And my husband’s not in town,” she sobbed. “I knew this was going to happen.”

  Maggie went to her, sitting beside her daughter on the bed. “There, there, now love; ye’ve got yer ole mama here to help ye along. I’ve had seven o’ me own and helped many in town have theirs, so I know a thing or two about birthin’ babies,” she said with bravado. Then she motioned to Cassia. “And yer dear friend is a trained midwife, so all will be well.”

  “But I wanted Cameron to be here,” Nora whined. “He wanted to be here.”

  “Most times men are a nuisance in these matters, love,” Maggie said. “Best he’s not here and can give us women room to help ye to get the job done.”

  Cassia moved to close the curtains. “I want to cool you down, Nora, make you feel refreshed. So, I’m going to bathe you.” She turned to Maggie. “Can you fetch me a basin of warm water, a wash cloth, soap, and a few towels?”

  Maggie stood. “I sure can.” She forced a smile. “And after this we’ll have tea and those biscuits I brought.”

  Cassia gave Maggie’s arm a reassuring pat, coupled with an encouraging nod. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind, even though Maggie was involved many times with the birthing process, that things would be different for her today since the expecting mother was her own daughter.

  While Maggie left to retrieve the items requested, Cassia opened her bag and pulled out the items she would need.
After securing a cap upon her head to keep her short curls in place and donning a surgical gown, she assisted Nora in removing her nightgown. Then she placed a protective rubber sheet beneath Nora’s lower extremities.

  When Maggie returned with the requested bathing items, Cassia first scrubbed her hands before pulling on the rubber surgical gloves that had become a part of every medical kit. Cassia examined Nora’s breasts, took her temperature, listened to her heart and the baby’s heartbeat, and checked between her thighs to see how many centimeters she was dilated.

  “You’re too far along to be issued the standard enema,” she commented.

  Nora pulled a funny face. “Lucky me. I always hated those things.” She motioned to Maggie. “Mama thought they were the cure-all for whatever ailed you, especially after we ate a bunch of candy from our Easter baskets.”

  “There’s nothin’ wrong with a good cleanin’ out to set the body straight,” Maggie said.

  Nora frowned. “Come to think of it, I don’t believe the enema bag was ever taken down from that hook over the toilet, that’s how much use it got.”

  “’Tis still hangin’ on that hook,” Maggie confessed.

  Cassia giggled. “I’ve had my share of the dreadful things too, as well as castor oil.”

  Nora joined in on her mirth. “Oh, please, don’t even get me started on castor oil. It was a Sunday night ritual in the Granger household.”

  Maggie laughed. “If I remember right, I had ye all line up before bed to get a spoonful.”

  “You remember right for sure, Mama,” Nora said.

  The doorbell chimed, and Maggie left to see to the caller while Cassia bathed Nora. Murial Dodd’s perky voice could be heard as she spoke to Maggie.

  Nora sighed. “Now, isn’t this just what I need, my mother-in-law watching me have a baby?”

  She frowned. “Don’t you like Muriel?”

  “Of course I like her,” Nora said. “I’m just not fond of her watching me, lying buck naked and spread eagle on my bed, pushing out a baby.”

  “That’s understandable,” she sympathized, not wanting to ever be a part of such a scene herself. “And what’s important is you feeling as relaxed and as comfortable as you possibly can throughout all this, so I will politely ask Muriel to leave.”

  “No, Cassia, please don’t,” Nora pled. “It would hurt her feelings, and in turn upset my husband.”

  “You are my primary concern here, Nora…and this baby,” she added.

  “I know, I know.” Nora grimaced with the pain of another contraction.

  “I need you top notch and focused throughout the delivery, and if Muriel’s presence is going to be a negative distraction or upset you in any way, then…”

  Nora interrupted her. “It will be fine… I’ll be fine, just don’t send her away.”

  Cassia nodded, their conversation ending just in time for Muriel and Maggie to enter the room. As time progressed, the extra hands proved extremely helpful, each one of them taking turns to rub Nora’s back after each pain, help her to the bathroom when needed, and keep her flesh cooled.

  An hour had passed, and Nora’s contractions were coming every eight minutes. “I’m going to check your cervix again, Nora, to see how the baby is lying,” she explained. “To get a proper read, I’ll need you, after the next contraction passes, to bend your knees, draw them up, place your heels together, and then let your thighs fall as far open as you can.”

  Nora complied, and she could thoroughly examine the vulva, as well as feel the cervix.

  She sighed, relieved, and gave Nora an encouraging smile. “The baby is lying in a proper position for delivery.”

  “Saints preserve us,” Maggie mumbled.

  “How far along is she,” Muriel inquired.

  “Almost three quarters dilated,” she said.

  But as she moved her fingers around one more time, she felt something odd. With a bit more probing, she realized it wasn’t the vaginal wall but a soft mass attached from above. It pulsed with the baby’s heartbeat as it hung beside the baby’s head. Terror seized her to the very core. Slowly she removed her hand, which began to tremble.

  Her inner turmoil must have played upon the features of her face, because Nora gripped her arm. “What’s wrong, Cassia?”

  She swallowed hard. “The cord has prolapsed and is wrapped around the baby’s neck.

  Tears welled in Nora’s eyes. “My baby will strangle.”

  “Saints preserve us,” Maggie gasped.

  Muriel’s voice shook. “What can be done?”

  Cassia closed her eyes while she called upon her studies and what she’d been taught in such a case. When she opened them, they locked with Nora’s. Tears spilled down her friend’s flushed face.

  “Tell me, Cassia,” Nora whispered.

  She inhaled sharply. “Usually a cesarean section is performed.”

  “That’s an operation whereby the baby is delivered through an incision in the mother’s abdomen, I believe,” Muriel clarified in her teacher’s voice. It wavered now with emotion but still held the calm, authoritative tone it did when conducting class.

  “Yes, and even if I could perform such a procedure, which I’m not,” she added quickly, “it cannot be done here. We’d need to get Nora to the hospital in Willow Creek.”

  “There’s no time to get her to a hospital that far away,” Maggie said, her face pale with fear for her daughter’s well-being.

  Cassia’s rapid heartbeat echoed in her ears. Maggie was right; there wasn’t enough time to get Nora to Willow Creek. And the clinic, where Dr. O’Clarity was on duty all day, wouldn’t be equipped either for such a procedure. Besides, as Nora’s labor progressed the cord would be crushed and the baby would die.

  Muriel’s fearful but controlled voice broke through her thoughts. “Is there another alternative that comes to mind, Cassia?”

  Again she called upon what she’d been taught. “Yes, there might be. If the amniotic sac hasn’t been broken, sometimes it is possible to raise the mother’s pelvic area so the baby’s head can be pushed back a bit. In this way the cord can be moved out of harm’s way.”

  “Has the sac broken?” Muriel said.

  “No, not yet,” she said.

  “Then do whatever you must to save my baby, Cassia,” Nora choked out.

  She looked around the bedroom and spotted a foot stool with a fairly wide dimension in a nearby corner. “Maggie, I believe we can raise Nora’s bottom with that footstool.”

  Maggie immediately went for the stool, draped a clean towel over the seat, and brought it to the bedside. Together with Muriel, the two women managed to prop Nora’s buttocks on top of the stool. Then taking a place on each side of Nora, they lifted her legs, securing one over each of their shoulders, before holding her rear steady upon the stool.

  Nora grunted with discomfort; as her head and upper half of her body was considerably lower than her bottom half. She grimaced in pain as she reached up to grab the spokes of the brass headboard.

  “I know this has to be a terribly uncomfortable position for your back, Nora,” she sympathized. “But it’s the only way to take pressure off the cord, allowing the baby to pull back into the uterus.”

  “No mind, Cassia,” Nora gasped. “Just do whatever needs to be done to save my baby.”

  “And I’ve only a few moments to push the cord away at best, because with the next contraction the baby will be pushed forward again.”

  “Then best you get to it,” Nora said.

  Inserting her fingers again, she felt the dilated cervix and the pulsating cord. Then she felt for the baby’s head, being very careful not to put pressure on the fontanelle, which would bring instant death to the baby.

  God be with all of us, here…please, guide my hands.

  She glanced at Maggie and Muriel. “Now, hold her bottom as still as possible, ladies.”

  “She’s not movin’ if I can help it,” Maggie boasted.

  “I’ve got a good grip as well
,” Muriel countered.

  Gently Cassia pushed the baby’s head. Slowly it moved, shifting about two to three inches. Then she felt for the cord…nothing…the cord was gone. She stretched her fingers farther, but all she could feel was the baby’s head.

  “I’ve done it,” she said relieved. “The cord has been moved, but I fear it will fall back if you’re taken off the stool.”

  “Ye mean she’s got to deliver the babe like this?” Maggie said.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.” She pulled back her fingers. “So hold her firmly in place.”

  At that point Nora’s face, red and wet with perspiration, contorted with the pain of a contraction. Her grip on the bed spokes left her knuckles white. Then her water broke, and from that point on, her labor continued, progressing normally. Slowly and steadily the baby’s head crowned.

  “Just a bit more now, Nora,” she encouraged her friend, as she cupped the baby’s head in her hands.

  Nora hollered in pain as each of the baby’s shoulders appeared. One last push and the baby slipped from Nora’s body. Cassia placed the baby on the bed and cut the cord.

  “You’ve got a son, my friend.” She held the baby upside down by the heels to clean the mucus from the throat. After she gave the infant a quick and gentle pat on the back, he cried.

  While Maggie and Muriel helped Nora off the stool, she wrapped the baby in a clean towel.

  “He’s a handsome one, Nora, with all his fingers and toes.” She placed the baby into his mother’s outstretched arms.

  “Hello, Cameron Dodd Junior. I’m your mama,” Nora whispered.

  After Maggie and Muriel cried with joy, hugged, and cooed at the baby a bit, they helped to clean Nora and the room. Cassia removed her rubber gloves and wrapped them in the rubber sheet that was once beneath Nora. All such items and instruments would be sterilized once she returned home. Then Maggie brought in a tray of tea and biscuits. Never had Cassia tasted anything so satisfying, as she watched her friend nurse her new son.

  “You did it, Nora,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I couldn’t have without you.” Nora gazed lovingly down at the infant. “You’re one fine midwife, Cassia Rose Holmes. You saved little Cameron, here.” She sighed. “And for that I’ll always be truly grateful.”