Free A Midwife Crisis by Lisa Cooke

why, until Harold thumped on their door precisely at dinnertime, she’d forgotten it was Monday. And she had promised Harold Mondays.
    Grandpa beamed as he hurried over to shake his hand. “Katie, why didn’t you tell us Harold was coming over for supper?”
    “I wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it.” She quickly pulled more bread out of the Hoosier and set another plate at the table, hoping her excuse sounded reasonable.
    Harold barely nodded in her direction before Grandpa dragged him to the hearth to warm up and chat. Her irritation at basically being ignored only escalatedwhen immediately after dinner Grandpa and Harold dove into a game of checkers that lasted long after Grandma and Pa had already gone to bed.
    Katie darned socks while the two laughed, goaded, and bickered away the evening, leaving her knowing no more about Harold when he left than when he came. Except that he wasn’t as good at checkers as Grandpa and occasionally, according to Grandpa, he cheated.
    “You’re just mad ’cause I beat you,” Harold said, pulling on his coat and hat.
    Grandpa hooked his thumbs into his suspenders with a snort. “We’ll just see about that next time you come.”
    It was all Katie could do not to roll her eyes. Another evening of those two carryin’ on was not something she looked forward to.
    “Harold, can I ask you a question?”
    “Of course you can, Katie.” His surprised expression made her wonder if he’d forgotten about her existence until that moment.
    Lifting her cloak from the peg by the door, she gestured for Harold to join her on the porch. Getting away from Grandpa was the only way she’d get a private word with her would-be husband.
    They stepped into the cold night and across the creaky porch boards to a pair of rocking chairs where Katie took a seat. She waited while Harold creaked into the other one.
    “Why do you want to marry me?” she asked, once all the creaking was done.
    “I, uh…” He stopped to think, which was probablya good thing. “You’re a fine cook and a good woman.”
    Not a ringing endorsement for a marriage proposal, but it was no doubt honest. “That all?”
    “Course not.” He chuckled and suddenly she felt herself blush. “A man my age needs a woman what’s good with herbs and such.”
    “Oh.”
    “My bowels ain’t what they used to be.”
    “Oh.” Again, but then what else could a woman say after something like that? “Well, I’m glad we had this little chat,” she said, wishing she’d stayed in the house with her darned socks.
    Harold bid her good night, then walked down the hill to his waiting wagon. His old horse was standing patiently in the same spot he’d left him, the only evidence of passing time being the pile of manure on the ground behind the animal. Evidently, the horse’s bowels worked just fine.

Chapter Ten
    Katie hurried down the wagon road, hugging her cloak against the chill of the brisk morning. Her breath came out in wispy feathers, reminding her that winter was just around the corner as a stiff breeze sent the fall leaves raining around her in a cascade of colors. Soon the color would be gone, leaving the gray of winter to accompany her on her walks.
    She doubted John had made any progress in his office after she’d left the day before. The pace he set wasn’t exactly breakneck speed, unlike the pace she was setting now. She had an eerie feeling something was watching her from the woods. Silly, she was sure, but she still took a moment to find a stout stick before continuing on to town.
    Grandma’s mood had been nothing short of grumpy when Katie had left. Evidently, fixing her own lunch greatly interfered with her plans for the day, though it seemed to Katie that dying could be worked around lunch as easy as not. Her unsympathetic thoughts kept her company the rest of her journey and didn’t fully go away until she found herself standing on John’s front porch.
    Should she knock or just walk in? It was the door to his