Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

same as being sick," she replied. "There are all sorts of sicknesses, sicknesses of the soul as well as of the body. Disgrace can weaken and kill a person as quickly as any disease. Now take off your clothes so I can see how far along you are."
    "What?" I stepped back.
    "I told you; I have been a midwife. Everyone for miles and miles around here calls me instead of any doctor. I've delivered dozens of babies and all safely and well, except for those that were sick in the mother's stomach. Quickly," she snapped. "I have other things to do yet tonight."
    "But it's so cold in here," I complained. "Where is the heat?"
    "You have an extra blanket under the bed if you need it. Before I go to sleep," she added in a relenting voice, "I will bring you a hot water bottle. That's how we all sleep here and always have. We save the wood and coal for the stove in the kitchen. I've only got Luther now and I can't have him chopping wood all day to keep this house warm and coal costs money."
    She lit the kerosene lamp on the night stand and turned expectantly toward me.
    "I thought I would have a doctor," I said, "and be taken to a hospital at the right time. I was recently in an accident. I was hit by a car and I just got out of a hospital," I added, but she simply stared at me as if I hadn't said a word, stared and waited, her eyes fixed on me with the same cold, glassy glaze Grandmother Cutler had.
    "I can't do what has to be done for you if I don't know what you need," she finally said.
    "What do you want?" I asked.
    "Take off your clothes and come stand here by me in the light," she ordered. She folded her arms under her small bosom and threw back her shoulders, her head high and arrogant again.
    Slowly, reluctantly, I peeled off my coat and began to unbutton my blouse.
    "I told you, I have many other things to do tonight," she snapped. "Can't you move any faster?"
    "My fingers are cold," I said.
    "Humph." She stepped forward and pulled my fingers away from my buttons roughly. Then she began to take off my clothing herself. She nearly skinned my arms when she unfastened my bra and drew the straps over my shoulders and down past my elbows. After she undid my skirt, she gave me a small push so I would step out of it. I stood before her in the pale glow of the kerosene lamps, my arms crossed over my naked breasts, shivering. All I wore were my panties and boots and socks.
    Miss Emily circled me slowly, squeezing her narrow chin between her thumb and forefinger. As she drew closer, I saw the pockmarks in her cheeks and in her forehead. It looked like someone had taken sandpaper to her skin; it was that dry. Her eyebrows were thick and untrimmed and she had small dark hairs growing freely above her upper lip.
    Suddenly, when she stood behind me, I felt her frosty, callous fingers on my sides. I started to move forward, but she pressed harder to hold me in place. I moaned in pain.
    "Stand still," she commanded. She widened her hands so that they stretched around toward my belly button. Her cold, bony fingers felt more like wires. She continued to press and squeeze, which was starting to make me nauseous. I gathered she was measuring the size of my stomach. Then she pulled her hands away and came around in front of me.
    Without speaking, she seized my wrists and pulled my arms from my bosom, holding them up as she gazed freely at my breasts. I saw her steel-gray eyes narrow as she leaned toward me to look closer. She nodded and released her hold on my wrists. Instinctively, my arms fluttered like broken bird wings and I brought my hands to my throat, pressing one on top of the other as I stared into Miss Emily's hard face.
    This close her features looked chiseled from stone, the nose cut sharply, her thin lips sliced across a granite visage. A chilling shiver raced down my spine, making me want to run and hide.
    "Take off those ridiculous underpants," she commanded. I knew she was referring to the lace trim.
    "I'm cold," I complained.
    "The longer you procrastinate, the longer it takes and the longer you remain naked."
    Reluctantly, too tired and weak to offer any resistance, I did as she commanded. She told me to lie down on my back and then she brought the kerosene lamp to the foot of the bed so the light fell over my naked body. She took my ankles firmly in those strong hands and pulled my legs apart. I closed my eyes and prayed for the examination to end quickly.
    "As I expected, it will be a hard birth," she declared. "The first