Perfect Wedding Page 9

  “Aye. D’ye think she is?”

  He nodded. “Two heartbeats.”

  That made sense. “You look tired, Doctor.”

  He uttered a dry chuckle and lifted his head to smile at her. “I am. You look perky, though, Marjorie. And as lovely as ever. I’m glad you slept in.”

  Detesting her red-headed tendency to blush at the least little provocation, Marjorie turned around, pretending to lead the way, although that wasn’t necessary. Jason knew Loretta’s house better than she did. “Thank you. I did sleep in. Then I felt guilty about it.” Her laugh was slightly strained.

  “That’s our Marjorie. But guilt becomes you, so I guess it’s all right.”

  “Whatever d’ye mean by that?” demanded Marjorie, resenting his words, although she didn’t know that he meant them to be unkind. She’d become accustomed to mistrusting every word that came out of his mouth.

  Jason shrugged. “I don’t even know.” He hung his hat and coat on the hall rack and hefted his black bag. “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs. In her bedroom. It’s the first door—”

  “I know where it is.” He started wearily up the steps.

  An angry, “Ow! Damn it!” floated down from upstairs, and Jason grinned.

  “Ah, Loretta. This should be fun.”

  Marjorie almost said she was glad he thought so, but didn’t. Her mind was still hovering around his comment about knowing where Loretta’s bedroom was. Whatever did that mean? And how could he know where it was unless he’d been there? Any what would have prompted him to go there?

  But that was a silly question. Marjorie knew, because Loretta had told her, that she’d been a virgin until she met the captain. Anyhow, what did it matter to Marjorie if Loretta and Jason had been lovers? Not a thing, that’s what.

  That being the case, Marjorie couldn’t account for the white-hot rage that engulfed her when her mind’s eye pictures Jason and Loretta together in an intimate embrace. Or the burning jealousy the image brought.

  Shaking her head and telling herself she was hopeless, Marjorie dragged back through the hallway toward the kitchen. Mrs. Brandeis and the maids didn’t need her help any more than Jason did. She’d probably only be in the way. She was so useless.

  As she walked past the staircase, she heard a noise and glanced up. The captain, looking strained and rather like a whipped dog, was halfway down the stairs. He saw her, nodded, and muttered, “She kicked me out.”

  Marjorie felt her eyebrows lift, and she grinned in spite of herself. “Did she?”

  He nodded again. “Said she hated me.”

  “Poor Captain Quarles. She didna mean it, ye ken.”

  “I guess.” He made it to the bottom of the staircase, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and stared gloomily at the carpet at his feet. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait here.”

  “Aye, I suppose so. D’ye want tea?”

  “Tea?” The captain wrinkled his nose. “No, thanks. I think I can do without tea.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Maybe a cup of coffee.”

  “I’ll fetch it for you, Captain. You just sit down here. I know you want to be as close to Loretta as ye can be.”

  “Damned Moors,” Derrick Peavey mumbled from his chair against the wall.

  A scream tore through the house, and Malachai’s face scrunched up even as his shoulders lifted. He looked like an enormous schoolboy being punished for some heinous sin. Marjorie would have laughed, had she not felt such sympathy for the poor man.

  “I can’t sit,” he said.

  “Well, you can pace, then,” advised Marjorie. “I think it’s the time-honored way of fathers-to-be.”

  “God,” he said. “This is awful.”

  “It was the Moors done it.” Peavey sounded as if he might cry.

  Chuckling under her breath, and silently thanking the captain for making her feel useful again, Marjorie trotted to the kitchen. She was ever so glad that the captain didn’t drink, as seafaring men often did. Drunkenness was the bane of many of the sailors she’d known in her own seafaring days.

  When she returned to give the captain his cup of coffee and a sandwich, to keep him busy, Marjorie saw that he was talking to Jason. Her heart sped up. She disapproved. Her heart had no business doing things like that.

  In order to teach her heart a lesson, she spoke in a businesslike voice, “How’s she doing.”

  With a chuckle, Jason turned to grin at her, making her heart misbehave yet again. Stupid heart. “She’s fine. She’s short, but she has broad hips, and everything seems to be going quite well.”

  A shrieked, “Jason! Where the devil are you?” sailed down the stairs to them. Marjorie winced, Jason chuckled, Peavey crossed himself, and the captain cringed.

  “But I’m going to need help. I think Mrs. Brandeis has helped deliver babies before. Do you think you could ask her to assist me, Marjorie?”

  “Of course.” Without waiting for the captain to take the tray she’d prepared for him, Marjorie clunked it down on the hall table and raced back to the kitchen.

  She exploded into the room, startling Li into dropping a piece of buttered bread, and causing Mrs. Brandeis to turn pale and slap a palm to her bosom. “Oh!” cried she. “What is it? Something’s going wrong, isn’t it? I knew she should have gone to the hospital!”

  Guilt smacked Marjorie upside the head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Nae, Loretta’s fine. But the doctor needs help. There are two bairns, y’see, and he asked if you could help him.”

  Mrs. Brandeis straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be happy to help. Let me wash my hands, and I’ll be right there.”

  “Have you done this before, Mrs. B?” Marjorie was curious. She hadn’t pegged the Quarleses’ stately housekeeper as a midwife.

  “Twice. I recollect telling Dr. Abernathy about it one time. I suppose he remembered.”

  There was a hint of pride in her voice. Marjorie didn’t begrudge her the emotion. Mrs. Brandeis might shoulder a large responsibility as the Quarleses’ housekeeper, but she was still a servant. From long and often bitter experience, Marjorie knew how difficult it was to find anything to feel good about when one worked as a servant. “Aye. It’s good that you can help.”

  “Let me get a clean apron. Cleanliness is next to godliness, especially where babies are concerned.”

  Molly waited until Mrs. Brandeis had left the room before saying under her breath, “When you’ve got five brothers like I do, cleanliness is next to impossible.”

  Marjorie and Li both laughed.

  # # #

  Mrs. Brandeis pressed a cool, damp cloth to Loretta’s brow. Jason told himself it was selfish to regret that he’d asked for Mrs. Brandeis rather than Marjorie. He appreciated the housekeeper more than he could say, really. She was efficient and self-contained, two qualities that came in extremely handy when dealing with childbirth.

  Loretta was anything but those two things, as he’d expected. Neither meek nor mild, Loretta had no trouble expressing her opinions even during the most favorable of conditions, which childbirth wasn’t. Although he’d never been in labor himself, Jason knew that it was one of the most painful experiences known to humanity. He’d often had occasion to thank his lucky stars he’d been born male.

  “It hurts!” Loretta shrieked.

  With a wink for Mrs. Brandeis, Jason said, “I know it does, Loretta. We’re all going to be deaf by the time this is over.”

  “Curse you and your cursed deafness!” shouted Loretta. Another contraction racked her and she subsided into panting huffs. Jason was doubly glad he’d spared Marjorie this experience. For herself. As for himself, he wished she was here. How strange.

  The contractions were coming fast now, and Loretta was fully dilated. Jason could just see the top of a black head beginning to emerge. “It’s looking good, Loretta. Next time a pain comes, push hard.”

  “Looking good, my eye! Can Malachai hear me?”

  “The whole
of Russian Hill can hear you, sweetie,” Jason told her. Mrs. Brandeis clucked her tongue.

  “Good. Damn you, Malachai Quarles!”

  “Poor Captain Quarles.” Chuckling, Jason added, “Push hard now. I see a head. It’s coming fast, Loretta. You’re going to have a fine, healthy baby.”

  She pushed, her face turned red, and Mrs. Brandeis mopped sweat like mad.

  “Aaaagh!”

  “You’re doing fine, Loretta.”

  “Am not!”

  “Are too.” Jason grinned, but there was a hurt deep in his heart. In spite of Loretta’s current state of anger and anguish, this was going to be a joyous occasion for her and Malachai. He seldom got to participate in a happy infant delivery.

  His practice in Chinatown was general, and even though it was illegal for Chinese women to immigrate to the United States, he’d delivered many a baby to a singsong girl who had been impregnated during her work as a prostitute. More often than not, the babies were half-breeds. The same white males who had legislated the Chinese Exclusion Act were not at all averse to taking advantage of the illegalities resulting from their work. The situation infuriated and saddened Jason, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  Delivering Loretta’s baby was much more to his liking. Loretta and her husband loved each other dearly, and they had all the money they’d ever need to rear a tyke or two. Or three or four. Also, and not least among his reasons for gladness, was the fact that he’d known Loretta since she was born, and she was one of his best friends. She’d be a spectacular mother, and Malachai would be a wonderful father.

  Still, a tiny ache accompanied the happiness in his heart when he remembered Mai. She’d wanted his children, and he had, too. But by the time they married, she was already dying from tuberculosis.

  He wondered if Marjorie ever longed for a family. Jason did. Often. “Push again, Loretta. We’re almost there.”

  “What do you mean, we? Oh! Ow! Ack!”

  And Jason was holding a slippery little baby. Mrs. Brandeis whispered, “Oh, my, will you just look at that.”

  Loretta couldn’t speak. She was too busy pushing. Her face ran with tears.

  “Let me take care of this one, and we’ll catch the next one,” Jason said, his heart soaring. “You’ve got a beautiful little girl, Loretta.”

  “A beautiful little girl.” Tears were leaking from Mrs. Brandeis’s eyes now, as well as Loretta’s. Jason judged the housekeeper’s to be tears of joy.

  Working quickly, he soon had the umbilical cord cut and tied. “I’ll set this one right here on your tummy, Loretta. We’ve got another one coming.”

  “Ow! Another one?” Loretta panted like a racehorse for a couple of seconds before beginning to push again. “I’ll never speak to you again, Malachai Quarles!”

  She delivered her son less than five minutes later. Because he knew that Malachai was in a state of advanced anxiety downstairs, Jason worked with Mrs. Brandeis with speed and skill. As soon as he’d taken care of the umbilical cord on the boy and cleaned both babies, he said, “Wrap these two little bundles of joy in some swaddling clothes, will you, Mrs. Brandeis? I’ve got to fetch Malachai.”

  Loretta was at present resting with her eyes shut. He figured she’d last until her husband came up to sit with her. Then she could berate Malachai in fine style if she still wanted to. He suspected she’d be too overwhelmed and overjoyed to bother with recriminations.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told her, and he leaned over to deposit a kiss on her forehead. “You did well, Loretta. The captain will be proud.”

  She said, “Huh.” Her eyes opened. Jason’s heart squeezed. He’d never imagined his feisty little Loretta looking so bedraggled. “Let me hold my babies.” Her voice was a ragged thread. “I want to feed them.”

  “In a minute, sweetie. Mrs. Brandeis is swaddling them. I want to get Malachai up here.”

  “Huh.” She settled back against her pillows. “I want to see Marjorie, too.”

  “I’ll send her up.” Jason wasn’t sure if she was still mad at her husband or not, but he’d never yet met a mother, including all the mothers-by-rape he’d met in Chinatown, who didn’t love their babies.

  His heart hitched when he remembered Mai. It hitched again when he thought about Marjorie. Strange, his reaction to Marjorie. Jason didn’t understand it.

  Chapter Six

  “Damn you, Malachai Quarles!”

  Marjorie winced in sympathy for the captain.

  “It was the Moors done it,” Derrick Peavey whispered, cowering in his chair. Every time Marjorie looked his way, he seemed to have shrunk more.

  Malachai didn’t respond. Marjorie expected he hadn’t even heard, such pronouncements from Mr. Peavey being too common to require rebuttals.

  She wished she could comfort Captain Quarles, but such a thing was beyond her capability. By this time, he’d nearly paced a hole in the carpet, and every time Loretta screeched, especially when she screeched at or about him, he cringed like a schoolboy having his knuckled smacked with a ruler. She hadn’t realized the energetic, masterful captain could do such a thing. She smiled to herself when she recalled that it was the tiny Loretta who had brought him to his figurative knees.

  Outside the weather was as stormy as was the atmosphere indoors. Thunder continued to rattle the windows, and rain came down in buckets. Marjorie heard it battering on the roof like tiny fists pounding to get in. Usually, she enjoyed a good brisk rain. It was life-giving stuff, rain was.

  Today the storm seemed somehow suggestive of malign forces, and she wished it didn’t. It was pure fancy, of course. Nothing could possibly happen to Loretta with Jason watching over her. She hoped.

  Chewing a cigar—Malachai didn’t often smoke, but Marjorie figured he needed it right now—Malachai stopped suddenly. “I can’t stand it any longer.”

  “I doubt that it will be much longer,” murmured Marjorie.

  “It’s been quiet for too long. Something’s gone wrong.”

  “Nothing’s gone wrong.” Marjorie spoke in her most soothing voice.

  “She’s not screaming, though.” He gazed with tragic eyes up the long, beautifully carpeted staircase.

  “There now, Captain Quarles, everything will be fine. You’ll see.” Marjorie wished she dared get up from her chair and go over to him. Pat him on the shoulder or something. But her inner reserve held her in her chair. Unlike herself, her inner reserve was also wringing its hands and moaning when it wasn’t biting its nails. It wasn’t at all as calm as she was trying to pretend to be.

  She also wished Jason had called on her to help, although she didn’t know why. Yesterday’s blood bath had been enough to put anyone off the medical profession for life. Nevertheless, she wished he’d trusted her to help him today. Besides, it would have given her something to do besides watch the captain pace and listen to Mr. Peavey mutter about the Moors.

  “I can’t stand it,” Malachai repeated. “I’m going to go up there and see what’s wrong.”

  “Please don’t, Captain Quarles. I’m sure Dr. Abernathy will be out in a minute.”

  A baby’s thin wail filled the air and Malachai’s own wrenching cry joined it almost immediately. “Loretta!”

  Marjorie sucked in her breath. The bairn, at least, was alive. Smiling, she said, “Ye have a wee bairn, Captain.”

  Loretta screamed one last time, and Malachai, who didn’t seem to have heard Marjorie’s comforting words, said, “I’m going up there!”

  With a massive internal push, Marjorie overcame her reserve and heaved herself out of her chair. Rushing over and grabbing one of Malachai’s arms, which was rather like grabbing onto a tree trunk, she said, “No, Captain! Don’t, please. Dr. Abernathy and Mrs. Brandeis must be vurra busy right now. Donna interrupt them.”

  He strained against her grip. Marjorie got the impression she might as well be trying to hold back a locomotive or a charging rhinoceros. She didn’t mind. The poor man was almost out of his
mind with worry for Loretta. How beautiful was their love, really, even though it had also caused Marjorie more than a few instances of pure shock.

  “But . . .” He didn’t go on, although he stopped struggling so hard against Marjorie’s weakening grasp. “Damn.” His shoulders slumped, he resumed pacing, and Marjorie went back to her chair. She felt much more at home there, against the wall, out of the way. The perfect wall flower. That’s what she was.

  Several more minutes passed in silence. Li and Molly stood against the wall on the other side of the room, their eyes wide, their faces worried. More wall flowers. Marjorie felt the tension radiating from Malachai in waves. It filled the hallway, curled around the stair railings, and slithered up the stairs, much as the fog often did out of doors.

  Finally, the captain’s patience snapped. He threw his chewed-up cigar across the room. Molly and Li ducked, and the cigar hit the wall and fell to the floor in a soggy lump. “I’m going up there.”

  Recognizing the finality and the authority in his voice, Marjorie only sighed, knowing that nothing could stop him now. He had begun charging up the staircase, taking them three at a time, when suddenly Jason appeared like a vision at the top of the stairs. His broad smile brought Marjorie to her feet and the captain to a halt, clinging to the banister, swaying slightly.

  Marjorie clasped her hands to her bosom when she saw Jason reach out a hand to Malachai.

  Raising her clasped hands and pressing them to her mouth, Marjorie felt tears sting her eyes. Jason caught her attention and winked. It was the first time in their acquaintance that she didn’t resent one of his audacious winks.

  Malachai’s own eyes were huge. Squeezing his arm, Jason said, “You can go on up, Captain. You have a fine, healthy son.”

  “A son?” Malachai’s voice came out in a shaky croak.

  “And a daughter.”

  Marjorie heard the captain gulp from where she sat. “Twins?”

  “Twins,” Jason confirmed. “They’re fine. You’re the father of two beautiful, healthy infants.”