The Family Origin

Chapter Twenty-Nine: JOSEPH POV

 My head was pounding as I walked up the steps of Edith Thatcher's porch. The Thatcher home had always been in good condition. Unlike our farmhouse, the paint was not flaking and the porch wood was not rotting. A well-cared-for rocking chair was next to the front door. No empty whiskey bottles would be found anywhere in this home. The yard was well maintained, without any weeds in sight.

I groaned and ran my hand down my face before knocking on the door. Clara used to have a good relationship with Edith. They often spent time together after Sunday services. When we were no longer allowed to return to the church, Clara cried over never being able to speak to Edith again. She was too embarrassed by the blame that haunted our family to reach out to any of her friends.

I washed and shaved before I left the house. Showing up to her house and looking like a drunk would not be helpful. Maisie needed Edith.

The door opened, and I took in a deep breath and straightened my posture. Edith's hair had become streaked with grey. The wrinkles around the corner of her eyes disappeared when her brows raised. She looked at me from head to toe as her jaw dropped. It was like a ghost was standing on her porch.

"Joseph?" she asked. "Why are you here?"

"I need to speak with you," I said.

Edith looked over her shoulder. She had four children, but I was unaware if any of them still lived in her home. It had been years since I had last seen her or her family. Were her children also married? What had happened to her family over the years?

She stepped forward and shut the front door, sealing me off from her family. She chewed on her lip as she sat on the rocking chair. Her eyes scanned her front yard. Was she looking for her husband? Vincent was among the first people to accuse Miles of the devastating fire. He was happy to have an opportunity to make my son look disturbed. He loved having a reason to ban him from returning.

"What can I do for you, Joseph?" she asked.

"I need your help," I said. "You delivered all of my children, so I was wondering if you would help with the birth of my grandchild."

Edith furrowed her brows. Her fingers nervously picked at the hem of her apron. The way her eyes darted around the yard did not go unnoticed.

"Grandchild?" she asked.

"Yes." I nodded. "Miles is married, and his wife is going to have a baby in a couple of months."

Edith's expression transitioned into something even more puzzled, like my words were absurd. Her lips parted, and she fought with her tongue to speak.

"Married?" she asked in disbelief. "Who married him?"

The way she worded the question caused my blood to boil in rage. I could not lash out at her because she was the only one who could help. Vincent would be furious if he saw me standing on his porch and screaming at his wife. Letting out a deep breath, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the porch railing. My fingers curled tight into my biceps as I focused on my breathing. I could not let my temper take over.

"I went to visit my brother in the city and I met a nice girl," I said, keeping the story vague. "She was perfect for Miles, so I helped arrange their marriage. They're very happy."

Edith appeared skeptical as she pursed her lips.

"Maisie is pregnant," I said, turning the conversation away from how I found Miles a wife. Not all details are necessary. "Clara says Maisie is having a daughter, and we are all very excited. Maisie is still anxious about the birth, so I came to see if you would help with the delivery. We don't have anyone who can help."