“You sure you’re all right?” Susan asked softly.
“Thank you, Susan. Really,” Brenda said, her gratitude sincere.
“Anytime, Brenda,” Susan replied, her eyes kind. “You just let me know if you need anything else.”
With newfound purpose, Brenda tucked the precious information into the pocket of her apron. She waved goodbye to Susan and set off back down the road, her mind already racing with possibilities.
Brenda’s heart skipped a beat as she approached the modest homestead nestled at the edge of a sprawling Texas meadow. She was happy fall was finally on them, but it was still hotter than she would like. Squinting against the bright light, she rapped gently on the wooden door, its paint weathered from years under the relentless sun.
“Who is it?” called a voice from inside.
“Brenda Clinkinbeard,” she answered. “I’m looking for Hortense Blakely.”
The door creaked open, and there stood a woman with hands that told stories of life brought into this world. Her eyes were kind, her smile gentle, and her hair streaked with silver strands of wisdom.
“Come in,” Hortense beckoned, stepping aside to allow Brenda entry. “What brings you out this way?”
“Got a bit of a personal matter,” Brenda said, her confidence faltering just a tad as she crossed the threshold. The room was cool with jars of herbs lining shelves along the wall.
“Sit, sit.” Hortense pointed to a chair by a large wooden table. “Tell me what’s ailin’ ya, and we’ll see if Mother Nature has an answer.”
Brenda hesitated, then decided to trust in the confidentiality of the midwife’s profession. “Well, it’s just that...I’ve been trying to conceive, and nothing’s come of it yet.”
“Ah.” The midwife’s face softened even further. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
She moved with purpose, her hands selecting jars and pouches. Brenda watched, captivated by the smooth efficiency of her movements.
“Here’s red clover, full of isoflavones, good for fertility,” Hortense explained, handing her a small bundle. “And raspberry leaf, to strengthen the womb.” Another pouch joined the first.
“Make these into a tea, morning and night,” Hortense instructed, her tone both commanding and comforting.
“Thank you,” Brenda breathed, relief washing over her. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing for now,” Hortense replied with a wave of her hand. “You bring me good news of a babe, and we’ll call it even.”
Brenda smiled, her spirit lifted. She felt lighter as she left the midwife’s home, the pouches of hope in her pocket.
