Obstetrix(40)

She shot me a brief, guarded look, and I was suddenly certain that this was a distraction of some kind, that a plan was underway that I wasn’t part of, and I had no idea whether pressing for a trip to the clinic, or pressing for her to lie down right here, or just letting her continue to throw an uncharacteristic tantrum over spoiled corn was the thing that would get her what she needed. That would get Bethany what she needed, I thought, realizing why Emma had sent Bethany out ahead of her.

“What’s going on? I heard you were upset, Sunshine.” Pastor John had arrived at the mending corner.

“The corn is spoiled, and there won’t be enough soup tonight, and Daddy, I am so tired and I was so looking forward to the taco soup,” Joy said, standing up and awkwardly throwing herself into the pastor’s arms and pressing her face to his shoulder.

David had come in behind him, and looked around the mending circle. I hadn’t been introduced to Joy’s husband, but he was often invited to do the daily Bible reading, and I’d heard people talk about him. I’d have recognized him as Calum’s brother from the patchy blond beards they both sported, in any case. “Pastor, send me to town with Brother Jason. Let Sister Emma get back to her mending. She should be able to spend this time with her daughter. Where is Bethany, by the way?”

“Getting Sister Emma’s coat,” Natalie said. “She left it behind this morning, it’s so warm out.”

Joy pulled away from her father, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry for making a scene, Daddy.”

“As you should be, Sunshine. But we’ll get you your corn. Why don’t you go home and rest? Someone else can take over in the kitchen.”

I stood up. “I’m not an expert cook, but I can chop things, if that’s what’s needed.”

I was hoping that shifting from my expected job (mending) to something less standard would help me slip my watchers, but I should have known better: Sarah was working in the kitchen, and had me come stand right by her to peel and dice carrots.

If I’d had a watch, I could have at least timed how long the trip to and from town took Jason and David. It wasn’t a five-minute drive, though, that much was clear; it was at least a fifteen-minute drive, maybe longer. When they came back, Jason brought the bag of cans into the kitchen and laid out ten regular-sized cans of corn, and David went to a cabinet, unlocked it, and hung something inside.

Hung a key inside. David was carrying a padlock-type key, but what he’d just put away was the minivan key. The key to the minivan was stored in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.



* * *



THE TACO SOUP WAS lunch, and I spent it thinking about that locked cabinet.

It did not look like a particularly sturdy cabinet. It looked like the kind of cabinet I could get into with a crowbar, if I had a crowbar. Or the claw part of a claw hammer. I probably would need a tool well suited to prying things, though; I didn’t think a butter knife would do it, which was a shame because I had regular access to butter knives. Had I ever seen a crowbar here? I probably hadn’t, but if I started keeping my eyes open, maybe I would spot one.

“Thank you for going to get the corn,” Emma said to David, who was sitting near me at the table.

“Happy to do it,” he said, not looking up.

Emma had arranged to send Bethany to meet her at the minivan, on what I was pretty sure had been a planned escape attempt. She surely hadn’t intended to leave JJ here. Heather had gone to find Jason, and Janet had gone to find Pastor John; one of them had probably made a detour to wherever JJ was, to send him to meet the minivan. I wondered which of them was in on the plan. Or if both of them were. Or if neither of them were and getting JJ had been Jason’s job. Or, hell, Bethany’s. Just because I thought Bethany might spill my secrets to the cult didn’t mean her mother did.

If I could slip my please call my father note to Emma, that might be all it took. But when we reassembled for more mending after lunch, Emma was nowhere to be seen. She had been sent off to work in the laundry room, instead.

When I stepped out after dinner, the wind had died down and the temperature was rapidly falling. I could smell snow in the air. I’d had a window, but that window had closed. I was going to have to keep waiting.



* * *



ANOTHER WEEK PASSED. ANOTHER foot of snow fell. Natalie made a floor-length, high-collared, long-sleeved white dress for Bethany, and had her put it on for a fitting. Emma was still working in the laundry, but the rest of the mending corner told Bethany that she would be a beautiful bride.

Her birthday, I’d found out, was the fifteenth. Her wedding was scheduled for the sixteenth.

“We should do a physical exam,” I said one day when Bethany was in the clinic and no other patients had arrived. “Make sure there isn’t any reason you can’t safely carry a child.”

Sarah gave me a suspicious glare. “You examined Bethany just last month.”

“I did not realize last month that Bethany would be getting married in March. Perfectly healthy for a young teenager does not necessarily mean fully ready for pregnancy and birth.”

Sarah granted what was clearly reluctant permission. I weighed Bethany again, measured her, and drew blood to check for anemia. Pelvimetry is a technique of measuring a woman’s pelvis to estimate whether it’s likely to allow a baby to pass through at birth; the thing is, I was pretty sure that Bethany would find even a regular pelvic exam traumatic, and I also did not think Sarah would allow me to perform one. I settled for an abdominal ultrasound followed by saying that Bethany’s pelvis was insufficiently developed to support a pregnancy and she needed to wait at least a year.