The Sister Wife (12 page)

The midwife placed her hand above where the baby lay unable to move. “Father Almighty, keep this child in your loving care—give my hands the strength and skill to turn him, and give Bronwyn the strength to bear it.”

She reached into a pocket in her apron and retrieved a tiny vial of oil. As she opened it, Mary Rose breathed in the soft fragrance of almond oil. The midwife poured a few drops in her hand, touched them with her fingers, and then made the sign of the cross on Bronwyn's forehead, also on her own.

Out of habit, Mary Rose crossed herself as they both stood. The midwife went to the foot of the bed and prepared Bronwyn for turning the baby; Mary Rose bent over the bed and kissed her friend's forehead. Bronwyn's eye didn't flutter as before, and her color seemed almost gray.

Mary Rose held the lamp over the midwife's right shoulder as she began to force her hands into the birth canal. Her hands were delicate and nimble, her fingers strong for their small size. She gave few orders as she worked to turn the baby. There was a slight movement…and then another…

Bronwyn groaned and her breathing became shallow. Then it stopped completely. The sounds of the storm rushed into the room, the pounding of the rain and rumble of distant thunder. Mary Rose held her own breath, waiting…Finally Bronwyn gasped for another breath.

Instinctively, Mary Rose reached for Bronwyn's wrist and felt for a pulse. “It's weaker than before,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She waited for the next breath to come.

A light knock at the door sounded, and when Mary Rose cracked it open, she saw it was Griffin. “How is she?”

“The baby is in breech position. The midwife is working with her right now.”

“Is it bad?”

Mary Rose couldn't lie. “Aye,” she whispered. “Bronwyn and your baby both need our prayers.”

M
inutes later the cabin door burst open. Brigham strode in with Griffin following.

Mary Rose stood. “This is woman's work. You'll need to leave.”

Brigham ignored her and returned to the doorway. “Gabriel, Coal, you need to come in here. We're going to pray.”

“But we already—”

Griffin rushed to the bed, and reached for Bronwyn's hand. “It's icy cold,” he said. “Oh, my darling Bronwyn—wake up, dearest heart. Wake up.” He fell to his knees, holding her hands to his face. Gabe came over to stand next to Mary Rose. He looked uncomfortable and ready to bolt. The midwife had quickly covered Bronwyn with a light blanket, and now retired to the table with the water tubs and clean towels to wash her hands. She remained standing there with head bowed reverently as everyone else knelt around Bronwyn's bed.

Brigham moved to the center, laid his hand on Bronwyn's stomach, and said, “Heavenly Father, we ask that you would heal this
child and its mother.” He waited, then cried out again, “Heavenly Father, heal this child, heal this mother, move this infant into its rightful position for coming into this world.”

A third time he repeated the words, and breathless, all waited to see what would happen. Bronwyn took a deep breath, the first in several long moments; stunned, Mary Rose held the lamp closer, unable to believe what she was witnessing.

There was a movement beneath the light blanket, then another, and another. The baby was turned.

Hot tears came to her eyes and Mary Rose watched the faces of the others in the room, as tears filled theirs as well, even Brigham's She looked back to the still moving infant. The baby was alive. It was well. Murmurs of awe and wonder filled the dark room. The midwife stepped closer, her expression puzzled as she watched Brigham.

The contractions began again, and Bronwyn cried out.

“We praise you, O God, for this miracle,” Brigham intoned. “What you have accomplished this day, we will never forget. We will be forever grateful, for your works are marvelous beyond compare. We delight in them and thank you for the lives of our Sister Bronwyn, our Brother Griffin, and this miracle child who is about to come into this world, fresh-sent from heaven.”

Gabe's eyes met Mary Rose's, and in their depths was something new. She was stunned.

Faith.

Pure and simple and wondrous faith. She smiled at him and he grinned back, seeming as surprised as she was.

Bronwyn cried out as another intense pain took control of her body, drawing Mary Rose's attention back to the task at hand.

“This time I insist you leave for reasons of Bronwyn's privacy,” Mary Rose said with joy. “Go now, and hurry.”

Grace Carolyn moved to the foot of the bed and peered beneath the blanket, her face almost glowing with joy. “Mary
Rose,” she said, “I want you to have the honor of catching this baby.”

Mary Rose thought she might never breathe again as she took her place at the end of the bed. “It's called the crowning,” Grace Carolyn said with awe. “I never get over the miracle of birth.”

Another swell caught the ship, tipping it to the starboard side. The table slid across the room. Thunder rumbled, but Mary Rose was so caught up in the moment, she almost didn't notice.

“A tiny miracle,” Mary Rose whispered. She looked up to see that Bronwyn, her eyes filled with tears, was watching her face. She squeezed her eyes closed as another contraction hit. She cried out and pushed hard, pushed again.

A soft tearing sound made Mary Rose cringe, and then moving closer, she held out her hands.

Seconds later, she held the infant.

She met Bronwyn's eyes and they shared a smiled. “'Tis a girl,” she said. “A perfectly formed tiny girl.”

The child let out a healthy cry.

Grace Carolyn took care of the umbilical cord, and gently wrapped the infant in a soft, clean cloth. Mary Rose laid the child in Bronwyn's arms.

M
ary Rose slept in a chair beside Bronwyn's bed. The midwife stopped by frequently to check on mother and child, who both slept peacefully. She mixed herbal drinks to give Bronwyn strength and applied a poultice to stanch the bleeding. She showed Mary Rose how to measure the proper amount of chamomile for the hot water that the cabin boy had been told to bring on the hour. This would help her milk come in, she explained.

By sunrise, the
Sea Hawk
had passed through the storm. At eight bells, Grace Carolyn appeared at the cabin door. Her eyes were full of sympathy for Mary Rose.

“I've had a cat nap or two during the night, but you've had not a wink of sleep,” she said, giving Mary Rose a quick hug. “We've taken care of your friend, and now you need some taking care of yourself. Get some fresh air while I order something to eat for you both.”

“I can think of nothing that sounds better,” she said. “Unless it would be that you join us.”

Grace Carolyn looked pleased as she went about the business of checking the tie in the baby's umbilical cord, changing the soft blanket, then rewrapping her.

Mary Rose gave her face a quick splash of water, ran her fingers through her hair and headed to the main deck for fresh air. The
Sea Hawk
was moving into calmer waters, and now that Bronwyn and the baby were safe and well, she felt like singing.

Words from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's “A Child Asleep” came to her…

She went to the bow, closed her eyes, and stretched her arms out to catch the wind, letting it lift her hair. At a time like this, she didn't care that her thicket of curls had kinked from her venture into the rain the night before, or that her clothes were wrinkled and limp.

All she cared about was the miracle of the baby and Bronwyn and how it had changed her life.

She drew the fresh sea air deep into her lungs and relived the moment the child had moved during Brigham's prayer. And the first moment she held the warm, moist body of Bronwyn's tiny miracle baby and recognized God's creative power. How could she not believe?

Someone stepped up beside her. She turned. It was Gabriel MacKay. He held the Book of Mormon as if it were more precious than gold. He caught her hand and held it with his against the soft leather binding. Then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a sound of utter joy. “I believe,” he said. “I needed a miracle, and God provided it last night.”

For a moment neither of them spoke. Mary Rose felt her wrinkled skirts billowing in the wind and her curls flying everywhere.
It seemed like a long time ago since she cared about such things. Right now all she cared about was the man standing in front of her, his declaration of faith, and what it might mean to them both.

“And I as well,” she said. “I've been as much a Doubting Thomas as you have been. It took the movement of that infant for me to believe, to truly believe. I've played around the edges, not knowing for certain about the Prophet, about his missionaries, his apostle Brigham. But after last night”—she blinked back her tears—“after seeing Bronwyn almost die…Her pulse was so weak I couldn't find it. There were moments when I thought she had left us, she struggled so to draw in a single breath toward the end.” She looked out to sea again, still unable to believe what she'd witnessed. “And now she is alive and well, her wee babe at her breast.”

Gabe stepped closer and put his arm around her, and she laid her head against his shoulder. The Book lay against his side in the crook of his other arm. The rigging clanked against the masts, the starboard-watch seamen spoke in hushed voices from their stations, and from the quarterdeck, the chief mate called out tacking orders. Mary Rose wanted to linger there forever.

He turned her gently and looked deep into her eyes. “It is my belief that God planned for us to be on this voyage, to find our new faith, to go with Brigham and the others to a new promised land”—he hesitated for a heartbeat, and then smiled—“together. Lady Mary Rose…”

She laughed lightly, still looking up into his eyes. “I believe, Mr. MacKay, that it's time to call me Mary Rose.”

Chuckling, he drew her close, holding her tight against his chest, resting his cheek on top of her head. When he spoke, she heard the resonance of his voice through his chest. “Mary Rose, what I'm trying to say is that I've fallen in love with you.” He took a step back and gave her a smile that quickened her pulse. She started to speak, but he touched her lips with his fingers. “If I
don't get this all out now,” he said, “I may never work up the courage to attempt it again.”

Her heart pounded madly as she waited.

He cleared his throat, then reached for her hand, drew it to his lips, and kissed her fingertips. “What I'm trying to say…to ask…is, will you marry me? I know it's sudden, and if you need time to think about it, I certainly understand. We've only known each other days, been together maybe just a few hours…”

She reached up and shushed him with a fingertip. “I will, Mr. MacKay,” she said.

His laughter was tender and joyous and filled with wonder as he drew her close once more. “How I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “I will cherish you till the day I die.” He pulled back slightly and, with that half-crooked smile at the corner of his mouth, his dark eyebrows arched mischievously, he added, “But please, I think it's time to call me Gabe.”

She was never one to follow another's direct bidding. Even now. She raised her own brows just as mischievously as he had. “I love you, Gabriel,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “You are Gabe, yes, and I will likely call you that most of the time, but when I say Gabriel I can almost hear the brush of an angel's wings. Right now I hear a legion of them.” She reached up to touch his cheek, running her fingers lightly along his strong jawline.

He drew her closer and, bending his head, captured her surprised little gasp with his lips. Enjoying the sensation even more than she thought she would, she put her arms around his neck and clung to him.

The whistles and hoots of laughter from the seamen on starboard watch, obviously enjoying the spectacle, did nothing to deter her. They stood kissing as the sails billowed and snapped, the wind ruffled their hair and clothes, and the seamen continued their hoots.

Mary Rose leaned back, breathless, and felt herself blush.
Grinning, Gabe gave an impatient order to the men, and they hastened back to their stations. Then he turned Mary Rose so that they were both looking out at the sea once more, and spoke of plans for the future. Gabe said he had decided during the night that he would post Cunard a letter of resignation the minute they reached Boston; and if she agreed, he would speak to the captain about marrying them on board ship even before then.

“I want to be married before we begin our journey,” he said. “Though I admit it will be quite an adjustment going from one to a family of six.”

Her countenance fell. “The children won't be with us,” she said. “We are simply acting as their guardians until we reach Boston and hand them over to an elderly cousin of my grandfather's.”

“An elderly cousin? As in old? As in doddering? Dour?”

She shook her head. “I've never met her, or even corresponded with her. She might be spry, apple-faced, and lovable. But she's my grandfather's cousin, so we know that she's…well, old.”

“This will not do at all. Can you imagine the little ruffians, sprightly and vigorous as they are, living with an old woman?”

“I truly don't know how capable she is of handling them; I only know that she is expecting them, that their parents wrote to say it's all arranged.”

He raked back his hair with his fingers and turned to gaze out at the ocean again. “How long have they been with you and your grandfather?”

“A fortnight before we left.”

He gave her a glance and chuckled. “No wonder you didn't know what to do with them on the carriage.”

Her voice softened when she said, “I freely admit I did not know the first thing about children, and still don't know as much as I need to. It was Bronwyn who showed me how well they responded to her once she filled their hearts with all the love she could.”

“They were probably starved for it,” he said, still staring at the horizon. “Do you think a distant cousin will give them the love they need?”

“I believe it's possible. Maybe that's exactly what she—and they—need. The one thing I do know is that Hermione is their mother and father's choice for their next guardian, and I must abide by their wishes.”

“Coal told me his parents live in the Sandwich Islands.”

“Yes.”

“It might as well be Mars.” He raked back his hair again and furrowed his brow. “I think we should take them with us. Count them as ours.”

“I promised their mother I would follow her wishes to the letter,” she said. “We'll need to pay Hermione a visit. As hard as it would be to let them go, maybe Richard and Sarah were right when they chose her.” She paused. “Besides, what if Richard and Sarah are on their way to Boston right now? They wouldn't know where to begin looking for the children should we just cart them off to Illinois. And what about the danger we face?”

“True,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “That's a consideration. But I might want to add a postscript to your letter about their parental responsibilities.” He fell quiet for a moment. “What is it they do there, and why can't their children be with them?”

“They are missionaries. Richard is a surgeon,” Mary Rose said. “He and Sarah live on an island set aside as a leper colony.”

“It's understandable that they don't want their children exposed to the disease.” He turned to her. “But I can't imagine anyone choosing to serve their church, or their God, over the good of their family, of their children.” He shook his head slowly.

“Sarah's letters tell of God's call to bring healing to the suffering souls and bodies of those in the leper colony. She also says that she knows God is watching over their children—he loves them more than she and Richard do.”

He was still fuming when he turned to her again. “Coal, Ruby, and Pearl need a real family,” he said.

“I agree, but they know they have parents. They write them letters and speak of them often. Their dearest hope is that their parents will return for them soon. But I've always felt it would take a miracle for that to happen.” Her eyes filled. “I never knew I would grow so attached to them. Even if Cousin Hermione is the perfect guardian, I will leave a large portion of my heart with the children.”

He took her hands in his. “We know something today about miracles that we didn't know yesterday.”

She couldn't help smiling. “We have seen one with our own eyes.”

“Then we will pray for another, that the children will be reunited with their rightful parents, as they so earnestly pray. But until that day, they deserve to be properly cared for.” Gabe stood there, gazing down at her, his eyes so full of warmth they made her soul want to take wing, or dance, or both. “The greatest miracle of all, my love, is finding you”—he smiled—“and loving you.”

He drew her closer. This time she felt his lips touch hers like a whisper.