Though she attempted to be subtle in the jest, Hettie couldn’t help but speak those names with just a touch more solemnity than was required. There was something in the way they sat on the tongue that soured the names and conjured images of curmudgeonly crones who shouted at small children for being too loud.
Mrs. Callaghan stared at her, and Hettie tried to keep her expression as innocent as possible.
Another pain struck the lady, and her body tensed, her grip tightening as the midwife and Hettie softly encouraged her through the worst of the agony. It was a different sort of trial to watch another suffer so acutely, knowing there was little she could do but hold the girl’s hand and hope that she found some comfort in it.
When the lady calmed once more and lay there, panting, Mrs. Callaghan turned a rueful smile to Hettie. “I knew a family in which they blended both the mother and father’s names to form something unique. Charmas or Thomity could work for a boy or a girl.”
The two dissolved into laughter, and the midwife shook her head at the pair, though with more than a hint of a smile.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need more pillows?” Hettie asked whilst adjusting the ones Mrs. Callaghan had.
“My legs…” The patient grimaced and shifted the offending limbs.
“It might help to walk around for a bit,” said Hettie.
Taking Mrs. Callaghan’s hand in hers, she motioned for the midwife. “Mrs.…”
“Johnson,” she replied.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Johnson. I am Miss Stillwell…” Hettie stumbled over the introduction, for she wasn’t certain how to explain her relation to the soon-to-be mother.
“She is my father’s sweetheart,” added Mrs. Callaghan without pause as she stretched her back and began to shuffle toward the window, breathing deeply of the cool air. Hettie rather wished she were closer to it, for her face grew alarmingly flushed. Despite the utter truth in that statement and having thought of herself in such terms, it was odd to hear it spoken aloud. Especially from one of Baxter’s kin.
“So, little Thomity Callaghan,” said Hettie, shifting the conversation back. “That is quite distinguished.”
Mrs. Callaghan laughed, her hands resting around her middle as she stared out the window. “Wouldn’t that just cause a stir at the baptism…”
But her last word broke off, her grimace returning as Hettie moved to her side, giving her support as another pain took hold of her. Mrs. Johnson came to her other side, and she clung to their hands, a low groan escaping as she sagged against them.
They helped her to the edge of the bed, and Mrs. Callaghan leaned heavily against it.
“You are doing so beautifully, my dear,” said Hettie, rubbing a hand along her back as the lady doubled over. “Just another few moments, Mrs. Callaghan.”
The lady moaned, her head pressed against the bedding, and Hettie continued to babble little nothings, keeping her voice even and calm as she tried to distract her.
Mrs. Callaghan relaxed once more, panting. When she could speak, she turned her gaze to Hettie. “Charity.”
“Pardon?” asked Hettie with raised brows.
“Call me Charity,” she repeated as she straightened once more. “You came to my rescue without hesitation. That alone earned you the right to use my given name.”
Hettie came to her side, taking her by the arm. “Are you certain?”
“Of course,” she replied, and when she glanced at Hettie, Charity’s eyes were filled with more remnants of tears. “Please do.”
“I would be honored,” replied Hettie, for there was no other answer to give to this poor lonely lady without a mother, sister, or friend to help her through such a moment. “I suppose it is pointless to hold to such formal strictures when we are going to cross far more intimate boundaries before this ordeal is through.”
Charity chuckled, though it was a weak thing. “I suppose it is hard to hold onto one’s dignity when one’s nightdress is rucked up, putting the whole of one’s ‘dignity’ on display.”
Again, the two ladies fell to laughing as Hettie helped her around the room. The pains continued to plague Charity, forcing them to stop at intervals, but with each pass of the room, the lady’s spirits strengthened. Though that could have as much to do with the room being a sensible temperature once more as it did the ridiculous conversation.
Hettie continued to pluck topics from the aether, and though she couldn’t claim that she and Charity saw eye to eye on everything, she adored the younger lady’s perspective and her unapologetic manner in expressing herself, speaking her opinion without hedging as so many did—as Hettie was wont to do herself on far too often an occasion.
“He didn’t!” Hettie gasped, her mouth gaping open as Charity dissolved into more chuckles.
“Oh, yes, he did. The fool.” Yet when she spoke that epithet, there was such amusement and sweetness in those two words that it wasn’t difficult to feel the love burning beneath them. “There we were, running about the party like two children—”
The door swung open, and before they could brace themselves, Mrs. Baxter let out a mighty, “Good heavens!” before rushing to Charity’s side.
