The Midwife of Hope River
Page 31
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In the deepest part of the night an idea takes shape, and first thing in the morning, I take Bitsy aside and explain my intentions: “I am going to go around the mountain by road to the vet’s and call the MacIntoshes’. If Mary answers, I’ll ask if it’s safe to bring Katherine home.
“If William answers . . . I don’t know what I’ll do; see if he’s concerned about Katherine or is still in a rage. If he’s drunk or angry . . . well, my strategy hasn’t gone that far. I’m just hoping things have calmed down and we can bring Katherine home to the baby.”
“After we return the Olds to Liberty how will we get home?” Bitsy wonders aloud.
“Good point. Maybe Mr. MacIntosh will be so ashamed he’ll drive us. Or maybe I could ask Mr. Stenger, the pharmacist. Or maybe we’ll walk . . . It’s only fifteen miles.”
Bitsy gives me a deadpan look. She’s doubtful about hiking home in the cold, and I don’t blame her.
“You want me to drive you to the vet’s?” she offers.
“No, I can drive. My late husband taught me.” I realize I’ve never talked to Bitsy about Ruben. “Anyway, someone has to stay with Katherine. If William MacIntosh shows up, turn the dogs on him and keep the door locked. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
The ride around Hope Mountain turns out to be harrowing. On the slick part, coming down the hill past Maddock’s, I skid into a ditch but am able to gun my way out. The mud is thawing and the snow is slush, which actually makes the conditions worse. How Bitsy and Katherine made it home in the dark is hard to imagine.
As I approach the vet’s drive, I begin to wonder what I’ll do if he’s not home. As usual, that hadn’t occurred to me. He could be out on a visit or in his office in town. I’m relieved when I see his Ford in the drive.
I bump over his wooden bridge and park next to it. Both cars now show the weather. William MacIntosh’s pride and joy, the once shiny black Oldsmobile, is covered in grime. I notice that Hester’s vehicle has chains on the tires, probably a good idea.
I slam the Olds’s door, and before I can think what I’m going to say, Daniel Hester sticks his head out the kitchen door. He’s wearing a flowered apron and wiping his hands on a dish towel.
“What are you doing here?” he asks by way of a greeting. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since Christmas Eve. He nods at the vehicle. “Your car?” He knows it’s not; he’s just being funny.
I tilt my chin. “No. It’s my friend Katherine’s. I wonder if I could use your phone? I need to call the MacIntosh residence in town. It’s sort of an emergency.” I don’t want him to think I came for a visit.
Hester shrugs. “Sure.”
At the stone threshold of the back door, I stomp my feet and walk into a bright kitchen that’s seen better days. Dirty dishes are piled on every surface. The vet points out a wooden telephone box on the wall, but my glasses have steamed and it takes me a minute before I can see.
“Where’s your housekeeper?” I ask, indicating the condition of the room.
“She left me. Her husband got work down near Beckley. King Coal closed last week and MacIntosh Number Three, near Delmont, too. It’s just as well. I couldn’t afford her anymore. When money’s tight, people only call a vet if they’re desperate.”
He takes down the black receiver and cranks the phone for me, unembarrassed about the feminine apron. The brass bells on the front seem especially loud, but it’s been a while since I’ve used a telephone.
“Susie,” the vet says, speaking louder than normal into the metal horn on the front of the oak box. He motions me forward. “Yeah, this is Dan Hester out on Salt Lick. . . . I’m fine. . . . How are you? Can you give me the MacIntosh residence in Liberty? That’s—” He snaps his fingers, and I hand him the slip of paper that Bitsy gave me. “That’s 247.”
I take a deep breath. The phone rings once, twice, then three times. Finally there’s a click, and a low female voice comes on. He hands me the receiver.
“MacIntosh residence.”
“Mary, is that you?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Patience.”
“Where are you, girl? Are Bitsy and Miss Katherine with you? They took outta here so fast last night, I didn’t get a chance to ask where they were headed. Is the missus okay?”
“She’s pretty busted up.” I look over at Hester to see if he’s listening. I know that he is, despite his concentration on the soap bubbles in the sink.
“Is it safe to bring her home?”
“Lordy, child, I hope so. I’ve never seen the mister like this before. He threw all the whiskey out of the house and has been crying all morning. I gave him a talking to and told him he didn’t deserve that nice wife and baby and he’d be lucky if Miss Katherine didn’t go back to her mother in Baltimore. Then he blubbered some more. I’ve seen him push Katherine around before, but this was the worst. He has one foot in a hell of his own making.”
“We were worried he might call the cops about the car.”
“Nah, he wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t want to lose face by admitting his family has troubles. Tries to keep up a front, you know, though everyone in Union County understands MacIntosh Consolidated is finished.”
She changes the topic. “I been feeding baby Willie cereal and canned milk, but he’s getting mighty fussy. When can you get here?”
“Well, I have to talk to Katherine, but I imagine we can be there by noon. I just don’t know how we’ll get home. Would William take us?”
“Hon, I don’t know. His head hangs so low. We’ll figure out something.”
Hester taps me on the shoulder and points to his chest. Then he picks up his car keys and shakes them, meaning he’ll bring us.
“Okay, will you tie dishrags to the front and back doors if it’s safe for us to come in? See you in a little while.”
I stare at the box, then turn to the vet; it’s been a few years since I used a phone. “Is that all?” Hester puts the earpiece back in its holder, then sets a cup of coffee on the table in a white mug, the kind they have in the Mountain Top Diner.
“Cream?”
“I can only stay a minute.”
He streams the white liquid from a quart mason jar, then clinks it back into his electric fridge. Mary Proudfoot has a similar Frigidaire at the MacIntoshes’, and she told me it costs almost as much as a Model T! In Pittsburgh we used an icebox, but there’s no iceman this far out in the country.
“If William answers . . . I don’t know what I’ll do; see if he’s concerned about Katherine or is still in a rage. If he’s drunk or angry . . . well, my strategy hasn’t gone that far. I’m just hoping things have calmed down and we can bring Katherine home to the baby.”
“After we return the Olds to Liberty how will we get home?” Bitsy wonders aloud.
“Good point. Maybe Mr. MacIntosh will be so ashamed he’ll drive us. Or maybe I could ask Mr. Stenger, the pharmacist. Or maybe we’ll walk . . . It’s only fifteen miles.”
Bitsy gives me a deadpan look. She’s doubtful about hiking home in the cold, and I don’t blame her.
“You want me to drive you to the vet’s?” she offers.
“No, I can drive. My late husband taught me.” I realize I’ve never talked to Bitsy about Ruben. “Anyway, someone has to stay with Katherine. If William MacIntosh shows up, turn the dogs on him and keep the door locked. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
The ride around Hope Mountain turns out to be harrowing. On the slick part, coming down the hill past Maddock’s, I skid into a ditch but am able to gun my way out. The mud is thawing and the snow is slush, which actually makes the conditions worse. How Bitsy and Katherine made it home in the dark is hard to imagine.
As I approach the vet’s drive, I begin to wonder what I’ll do if he’s not home. As usual, that hadn’t occurred to me. He could be out on a visit or in his office in town. I’m relieved when I see his Ford in the drive.
I bump over his wooden bridge and park next to it. Both cars now show the weather. William MacIntosh’s pride and joy, the once shiny black Oldsmobile, is covered in grime. I notice that Hester’s vehicle has chains on the tires, probably a good idea.
I slam the Olds’s door, and before I can think what I’m going to say, Daniel Hester sticks his head out the kitchen door. He’s wearing a flowered apron and wiping his hands on a dish towel.
“What are you doing here?” he asks by way of a greeting. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since Christmas Eve. He nods at the vehicle. “Your car?” He knows it’s not; he’s just being funny.
I tilt my chin. “No. It’s my friend Katherine’s. I wonder if I could use your phone? I need to call the MacIntosh residence in town. It’s sort of an emergency.” I don’t want him to think I came for a visit.
Hester shrugs. “Sure.”
At the stone threshold of the back door, I stomp my feet and walk into a bright kitchen that’s seen better days. Dirty dishes are piled on every surface. The vet points out a wooden telephone box on the wall, but my glasses have steamed and it takes me a minute before I can see.
“Where’s your housekeeper?” I ask, indicating the condition of the room.
“She left me. Her husband got work down near Beckley. King Coal closed last week and MacIntosh Number Three, near Delmont, too. It’s just as well. I couldn’t afford her anymore. When money’s tight, people only call a vet if they’re desperate.”
He takes down the black receiver and cranks the phone for me, unembarrassed about the feminine apron. The brass bells on the front seem especially loud, but it’s been a while since I’ve used a telephone.
“Susie,” the vet says, speaking louder than normal into the metal horn on the front of the oak box. He motions me forward. “Yeah, this is Dan Hester out on Salt Lick. . . . I’m fine. . . . How are you? Can you give me the MacIntosh residence in Liberty? That’s—” He snaps his fingers, and I hand him the slip of paper that Bitsy gave me. “That’s 247.”
I take a deep breath. The phone rings once, twice, then three times. Finally there’s a click, and a low female voice comes on. He hands me the receiver.
“MacIntosh residence.”
“Mary, is that you?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Patience.”
“Where are you, girl? Are Bitsy and Miss Katherine with you? They took outta here so fast last night, I didn’t get a chance to ask where they were headed. Is the missus okay?”
“She’s pretty busted up.” I look over at Hester to see if he’s listening. I know that he is, despite his concentration on the soap bubbles in the sink.
“Is it safe to bring her home?”
“Lordy, child, I hope so. I’ve never seen the mister like this before. He threw all the whiskey out of the house and has been crying all morning. I gave him a talking to and told him he didn’t deserve that nice wife and baby and he’d be lucky if Miss Katherine didn’t go back to her mother in Baltimore. Then he blubbered some more. I’ve seen him push Katherine around before, but this was the worst. He has one foot in a hell of his own making.”
“We were worried he might call the cops about the car.”
“Nah, he wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t want to lose face by admitting his family has troubles. Tries to keep up a front, you know, though everyone in Union County understands MacIntosh Consolidated is finished.”
She changes the topic. “I been feeding baby Willie cereal and canned milk, but he’s getting mighty fussy. When can you get here?”
“Well, I have to talk to Katherine, but I imagine we can be there by noon. I just don’t know how we’ll get home. Would William take us?”
“Hon, I don’t know. His head hangs so low. We’ll figure out something.”
Hester taps me on the shoulder and points to his chest. Then he picks up his car keys and shakes them, meaning he’ll bring us.
“Okay, will you tie dishrags to the front and back doors if it’s safe for us to come in? See you in a little while.”
I stare at the box, then turn to the vet; it’s been a few years since I used a phone. “Is that all?” Hester puts the earpiece back in its holder, then sets a cup of coffee on the table in a white mug, the kind they have in the Mountain Top Diner.
“Cream?”
“I can only stay a minute.”
He streams the white liquid from a quart mason jar, then clinks it back into his electric fridge. Mary Proudfoot has a similar Frigidaire at the MacIntoshes’, and she told me it costs almost as much as a Model T! In Pittsburgh we used an icebox, but there’s no iceman this far out in the country.
