At Odds With The Midwife. Patricia Forsythe
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and position, his parents had never known how to do that. From his first memories, their home had been sterile, filled with icy silences. Funny, after all these years, he still never thought of the ostentatious house at the end of Pine Street as his home, only theirs. That’s why it was sitting empty, falling into disrepair. Why he’d rented a small house near the hospital and filled it with furniture he’d bought himself. He had yet to include anything from his childhood home.
“And how are your parents?” he asked. “I heard they had left town, and the campground was permanently closed.”
She gave him a big smile—the expression of someone talking about those she loved. “They’re very well. As soon as I was launched into the world, they took the money they’d inherited from my dad’s family and the sale of the farmland and took off. They’ve traveled the world ever since, helping out on building projects in places in need wherever they can. I see them a couple of times a year here in the States, or I go wherever they are.”
“It sounds...idyllic.”
Gemma laughed and her eyes lit up. “It sounds like what a couple of middle-aged hippies would do, but don’t tell them I said that.”
“I doubt that I’ll ever see them.”
“You might be surprised.” She lifted his hand and examined it closely for debris, then, apparently satisfied, she carefully positioned a bandage over the cut. “This is their home, after all.”
“Are you going to be here long?” Maybe she’d go out to dinner with him. There were no decent restaurants in Reston, but Dallas was only a couple of hours south and he knew there were plenty of fine dining places there. Besides, if she was as competent a nurse as she appeared to be, he might have a job for her.
“I’m back permanently.”
“Really?” More and more promising, Nate thought. “Is your nursing license current?”
“Of course.” She tilted another smile at him. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Afraid I didn’t bandage your hand right? Remember, you were on my property without being asked, while I was busy working.”
Deciding he’d better change tactics, he asked, “What were you doing out there, by the way? At first I thought you were burying a body.”
“Planting herbs.”
“In the dark?”
“It’s not dark. There’s a full moon, which is when these herbs must be planted.”
Maybe she wasn’t as different from her parents as he’d thought. “Oh? What kind?”
“Blue cohosh, for one.”
He frowned. “It grows wild all around here. You only have to walk into the woods and pick it.”
“I’d rather have it close by and if I grow it myself I can ensure the quality.”
She was watching his face carefully. Nate felt as if he was trying to communicate in an unknown language.
“And you need these for cooking?”
“No, for pregnancy, labor and delivery. Tincture of blue cohosh stimulates labor.”
Nathan went very still as those words sank in, the facts lining up before him as if they were printed on the very air.
“You’re a midwife.” His tone was flat.
* * *
GEMMA WHITMIRE STARED at the sudden stiffness in his face, the way his brown eyes had narrowed. Alarm bells clanged in her head, but she spoke calmly. “Yes, I am.”
“And you’re planning to open a birthing center?”
“Yes, in your father’s old offices next to the hospital.” She lifted her chin, held his gaze. There had been a time when she would have backed down, apologized, tried to explain her position. Those days were gone. “Exactly as you plan to establish a family practice and reopen the hospital.”
“Not exactly.”
“Both facilities are for people’s health.”
“No, the hospital cures people and keeps them well—”
“Fortunately, giving birth isn’t an illness.”
Their eyes met—hers defiant, his resolute. Gemma’s heart sank as she imagined the swirl of objections that were about to come at her. She’d heard them all before, fought them all before. Somehow, it was disappointing to know she was about to hear them from Nathan.
She hadn’t recognized him at first when he’d startled her and she’d thrown him to the ground. He’d been a small, skinny guy in high school, with dark hair worn long in defiance of his parents. He must have grown a good six inches since she’d seen him last, topping out at six feet, with wide shoulders and muscled arms. His hair was cut short, probably for the sake of convenience. But those eyes hadn’t changed. Deep-set and steady, they looked at her as if he was trying to see into her soul.
She had admired him when they were growing up, and had a major crush on him by the time they were in high school. She’d been crazy about his good looks, his serious gray eyes and the way his thick brows came to a slight peak as if he was gently surprised by life. Whereas the other guys she’d known had been jocks or cowboys, he’d been focused and smart. Apparently, he still was.
But he was also wrong.
“Giving birth is fraught with risks. Risks that are best handled in a qualified medical facility.” His voice was firm, as if he thought that stating his case strongly would have her immediately caving.
Not a chance. “Giving birth is a natural process, which women have been handling very well for quite a while now.”
“That’s true, but why take risks with women’s lives when excellent medical facilities and qualified personnel are available?”
“It’s not a risk and I am qualified personnel. I’ve been a registered nurse for ten years and a midwife for six. I’ve worked in every type of medical situation, every type of neighborhood you can imagine, even some pretty bad ones, which is why I know self-defense moves. Many times, a birthing center is the most affordable option for families, and you may not be aware of this, but Reston County isn’t exactly overflowing with wealthy people who can afford hospital births and care. Our new birthing center is the only option for expectant mothers since we don’t know when the hospital will be reopened, anyway.”
“It will be soon...”
“Besides that, more than ninety percent of this country’s births are in a hospital and we have such high maternal and infant mortality rates in the United States. It’s appalling.”
“I agree, but I can’t believe that dragging home births back from the past is going to improve the situation.”
“Which is exactly why they’re not being dragged back from the past. Nonhospital births are proven safe on a daily basis, both at home and in birthing centers across this country.”
He raised a skeptical brow. “Your birthing center has to have a transfer agreement with a hospital no more than thirty minutes away and a licensed doctor as medical director.”
“I’m working on both of those things with the hospital in Toncaville until you get the Reston County Hospital reopened.” She clapped her hands onto her hips. “And once our hospital is reopened, if you choose not to be the medical director for the birthing center, I’ll respect that and continue with a doctor from Toncaville—no matter how inconvenient that might be.”
He frowned, obviously not liking her tone. “You’ll have to be on duty twenty-four hours a day.”
“I know that.”
“You think one nurse-midwife is going to be enough for the whole of Reston County?”
“Of course not. I’ll