Several days later, a visitor arrived at the farmhouse. Out of habit, Richard disappeared from sight and went to work in the shed. He had barely opened the toolbox when Katrina called out for him to join her in the kitchen.
A woman in her fifties sat at the wooden table with a mug of herbal brew in her hands, gray hair tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. She smiled at him and extended her beefy hand with long fingers. “Hello, I’m Magda Lenska, the midwife.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I have a message from your relative. Take a seat.” Magda didn’t beat around the bush.
The tension in the room ratcheted up as Richard obeyed her request and sat on the chair to her right, facing Katrina on the opposite side of the table. Katrina had told him that the midwife had helped deliver al
