“So, what are you going to do?” the midwife asked, indicating that Jamie was to sit on the sofa.

Jamie sat down, putting the baby to her shoulder and laying her cheek against his head. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted.

“I can give you information about state assistance programs for single mothers,” Mae said as she reached for the baby and placed him lengthwise on her lap. The baby’s eyes were open, and he seemed to be looking up at the midwife. “Well, aren’t you a handsome little fellow. I bet your old aunt Mae can find some clothes to dress you in.”

Jamie reached over and stroked her baby’s cheek. “I’ve never been around babies much. I need to buy a book and learn how to care for him.”

“I’ll give you some reading material, and your own instincts will kick in. He seems calm enough. Have you tried to nurse him?”

Jamie nodded. “But the stuff coming out of my breasts doesn’t look much like milk. Maybe I should buy some formula.”

“No call for that. He’s getting exactly what he needs.”

Mae asked Jamie how she was feeling, then, carrying the baby, she led the way to her clinic, which was housed in a room that been built onto the back of the house. “My mother built this room for a beauty parlor,” Mae said as she struck a match and lit a gas heater. “I grew up shampooing hair and taking out curlers.”

After washing her hands, the midwife thoroughly examined the baby, then listened to his heart and lungs, took his temperature, cleaned the cord stump, and weighed him. At five pounds nine ounces, he was a bit undersized but seemed quite healthy, Mae assured Jamie. She explained how to care for the cord stump and that the greenish stuff that was starting to come out of his bottom was normal.

Once she was finished with her examination, Mae diapered the baby, dressed him in a pair of fleecy pajamas, wrapped him in a pink blanket, and placed him in an infant carrier. “Sorry about the pink blanket,” she said.

Jamie had the feeling that she wasn’t the first woman who had showed up at Mae’s door with a baby wrapped in a bath towel.

“Now it’s your turn, Janet,” Mae said, handing her a flowered gown and pointing to a curtained-off corner of the room.

With Jamie sitting on the end of the examining table, Mae took her blood pressure, checked her pulse, listened to her heart and lungs, took her temperature, then helped her lie back on the table. With her head resting on a clean, soft pillow, Jamie realized how exhausted she was.

Mae covered her with a sheet, guided her feet into the stirrups, and sat on a stool at the end of the table.

“Good grief, girl!” she exclaimed. “You’re just one big bruise! That so-called ‘boyfriend’ should be arrested!”

Jamie said nothing, feeling almost guilty that she was allowing some nonexistent man to be maligned.

“Well, you tore some,” Mae said, “but not too bad for a first baby. I’ll clean you up and stitch you back together. You’ll be just fine.”

When Mae finished her examination, she explained that she was deadening the perineum as best she could but that Jamie was still going to experience some pain.

Jamie clenched her fists and tried not to cry out, which proved to be impossible. Still, it was nothing compared to what she had been through giving birth.

The stitches in place, Mae helped Jamie into a sitting position and rattled off a list of instructions for her and the baby. “I’ve got all this in writing, so it’s okay if you don’t remember everything.”

“What about a birth certificate?” Jamie asked.

“We’ll get to that,” Mae said. “First, I want to watch you nurse this little guy.”

Mae showed Jamie how to position the baby and discussed how long and how frequently she should nurse him. “It’s best to nurse him on both sides each session,” she instructed. “You may have to tickle his cheek or jiggle him a bit to keep him awake.”

Once the baby had nursed on each breast and was sleeping contentedly, Mae put him back in the infant seat. Jamie got dressed and carried the baby into the kitchen. Mae gave her a cup of hot tea and a generous slice of homemade banana-nut bread, then sat across the table from her, holding an official-looking form.

“Since you obviously just had a baby, I can sign this form as ‘certifier.’ If I had delivered the baby, I would be ‘attendee.’ But either way, it’s all legal and aboveboard.”

“Do I have to list the father’s name on the birth certificate?” Jamie asked.

Mae shook her head. “No. If you had a husband with you, I’d be required to report his name, but otherwise, I can just leave that line blank. Okay, now, what is your full name, dear?”

“Janet Marie Wisdom.”

Mae looked up. “There’re some Wisdoms over Goodwell way. You any relation to them?”

“Actually, I was born in Goodwell.”

“That so,” Mae said, studying Jamie’s face.

Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. She should have driven on to the next county before looking for a midwife. Or found a less common family name to borrow. Goodwell was too close to Guymon. Mae probably knew most of the families in this county.

“Okay,” Mae said, returning her attention to the form. “Mother’s birthplace-Texas County. Baby’s birthplace-Texas County.”

When she asked Jamie her date of birth, Jamie told her the date on the long-dead three-year-old’s tombstone.

Mae paused again, regarding Jamie over the top of her reading glasses for several heartbeats before returning her attention to the form. “So, what are you going to name the baby?” she asked.

“William Charles Wisdom.”

The midwife wrote down the name. “Okay, Janet, I’ll send this in the morning. You can get a copy of the official birth certificate from the state health department.”

Jamie asked to use the bathroom before leaving. When she returned, Mae had carried the baby into the living room and was copying down something from the Bible on the coffee table.

Loaded with booklets on infant care, useful addresses, foiled-wrapped slices of banana-nut bread, and a bottle of orange juice, Jamie asked the midwife how much she owed her. Mae shook her head. “I know what it’s like to be in an abusive relationship. You can pay me by taking good care of yourself and little William.”

“Billy,” Jamie said. “I named him for my father, and everyone always called him Billy.”

“Billy Wisdom. Now, that’s a right nice name.”

“I can never thank you enough,” Jamie said, her eyes misting over.

Mae opened her arms and Jamie stepped into them gladly. “I know, honey, it’s been rough,” Mae said soothingly, patting Jamie’s back. “But you have your health and a fine baby boy. And it would seem that you’ve taken the necessary precautions to keep the boyfriend from tracking you down.”

Mae handed Jamie some tissues. She blew her nose then bent to lift the baby from the infant carrier.

“No, you take that along with you,” Mae said. “I have a base for it that turns it into a car seat. I keep a lookout for used ones. And baby clothes. You’d be surprised how many mothers get caught unprepared.”

“I’ll send you money someday,” Jamie said. “I promise I will.”

“Never you mind,” Mae said. “You just take good care of yourself and little Billy.”

Mae put on her coat and carried the base out to the car. “Oh, your poor little dog,” she said when she saw Ralph. “You should have brought him inside.”

Ralph raced around the yard while Mae helped Jamie clear a place in the backseat and install the base for the infant seat. Once Billy Wisdom and his carrier were securely fastened in place, Jamie hugged Mae once again. “I’d all but forgotten that there were good people in the world,” she admitted.

“Lots of good people,” Mae said. Then she reached inside the pocket of her coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “My maiden name was Wisdom. I’ve written down the names, birth dates, and birthplaces of Janet Marie Wisdom’s parents. You’re going to need this information to get a copy of her birth certificate and apply for a Social Security number in her name.”