The True Cowboy of Sunset Ridge (Gold Valley #14)(26)

CHAPTER SIX


THE CLINIC DIDN’T have any patients today. But Mallory was meeting with Tirzah Marsden, the retiring midwife, to talk to her about everything she needed to know about the clinic. And to talk about the patients that Mallory would be having transferred into her care.

“We definitely don’t have the most up-to-date equipment,” Tirzah said.

“This is a lovely setup, though. Really.”

It was beautiful, with a calm and serene waiting room. Each of the different birthing suites were set up to be like bedrooms.

It needed a face-lift, maybe, but it was still nice.

Overall, it was such an inviting place, and while Mallory had questioned herself a few times about buying something sight unseen, she didn’t question it now.

She really was on the right track. Things might be a little bit weird with Colt, but this was where she was supposed to be.

She was confident in that.

“It’s hard to give up,” Tirzah said. “It’s more of a calling than a job.”

“I know what you mean,” Mallory said. “I get so close to all my moms. I get to be part of such an amazing experience in their lives.”

“Do you have children?” Tirzah asked.

“No,” Mallory said. She was often asked that question. People wanted to know why she did this job. And sometimes potential clients saw it as a mark against her that she herself had never had a live birth. But she’d done the job for eight years. She didn’t feel insecure about it. And the answer came easily these days. “I had a very traumatic stillbirth. A long time ago. It was that experience, the callousness of the doctors involved, that got me interested in midwifery. I wanted to become the advocate I didn’t have.”

It was a marvel, sometimes, that she could say all that without crumpling. That she could acknowledge her loss without lingering in it. But it was something she’d compartmentalized. It went here. In her work. She found purpose in her loss by being there to help other women when they experienced pregnancy loss and trauma.

That time in her life had been horrific. She’d been adrift. In denial for the whole pregnancy and so afraid of telling her parents. The only person she’d confided in was Jared. And he’d made her promises. With all the bravado of a fifteen-year-old boy. He’d promised to be there for her, and it had gotten her through.

He’d been there when their baby had been stillborn. And he’d been the one to hold her when she sneaked away from home to cry.

He’d cried with her.

He’d held her hand while they’d walked along the wharf in San Francisco and bought a toy sailboat from a small tourist trap store there. He helped her send it out to sea, a tribute to the daughter they’d never gotten to hear cry.

It had cemented their relationship, but it cemented it in a specific time and place. She’d been loyal to him because of what they’d lost together. Because he’d been the only person she’d had to help her through. Not her parents, her brother, her friends.

But she’d grown and changed since then. She’d found support and purpose in her job. She’d found strength standing on her own, and he just... Hadn’t.

Hadn’t grown, hadn’t changed.

But in some ways she’d been afraid to leave him, because it would mean being separated from the only other person who’d known about her daughter, who’d grieved her.

It was amazing how much that realization allowed her to feel... Understanding for herself in a way she hadn’t felt before.

She’d been berating herself for staying with Jared longer than she should have, but she hadn’t really let herself remember.

That he’d been there for her. That he’d been good.

Why does she stay with him...

Of course, that couldn’t go on forever, not when it wasn’t good anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Tirzah said, her smile kind. It was real sympathy without the kind of pity that turned Mallory’s stomach. The kind that came from a woman who had seen every possible outcome of birth imaginable. “Like I said, it’s a calling.”

Mallory nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s why it means so much, but it’s also why it’s time for me to stop. This isn’t a job that you can do halfway. It’s time for me to see where my path leads me now.”

“How many home births do you do a year?”

“Oh, it varies, though maybe thirty percent are done at home. It depends on insurance and the birthing cycle, of course. I feel this year will be busy. We’re in the right phase for a birthing boom.” Tirzah walked over to the front counter and took hold of a folder. “I have three expectant mothers who are extending out past my date, and I’m sure the schedule will fill up even more when word gets around about you. Lizzie Omak, Angela Litman and McKenna Dodge.”

She handed the file to Mallory. “All three are in good health. Nothing concerning to report,” she said.

“I’m looking forward to getting started,” Mallory said. “I’ve been ready for this for a while.”

She said goodbye to the other woman and spent some time looking around the office of the clinic.

There were surely some updates to make. But the way that it was positioned in an old house gave it a homey quality that she liked. Anyway, it wasn’t in terrible shape—it just needed a little bit of TLC. And she could see how—when you were working by yourself, and also winding down—the aesthetics wouldn’t be a priority.