The Midwife's Secret (8 page)

Ellie watched Pierce walk to the shack. It seemed whatever she had to say, she’d say it when her son was out of earshot.

Tom and Donald glanced up from where they were hinging a cedar door onto the new root cellar, which they’d built into the side of a small hill. The clearing for the cabin had been leveled, and the six-by-six boards laid for the floor. Toward the back of the structure, where the kitchen would be, a shiny water pump handle protruded three feet above the new well. It was starting to shape up nicely, and Amanda was counting down the days when she’d no longer have to work with Tom Murdock. The sting of their last argument still burned in her cheeks.

Her divorce was still no one’s business but hers.

She knew it wasn’t Tom’s fault that he’d been the messenger about William’s new sons.

After this year’s winter, the coldest blizzard they’d had in decades, she’d heard William had lost half his cattle in the freeze. Knowing how difficult that struggle must have been for his wife, Amanda was happy the young woman had healthy babies to keep her company.

But Amanda’s argument with Tom just went to prove how different they were.

She watched the rich outline of his shoulders as he heaved on the door. Did he know she’d lost a baby? She doubted it. He hadn’t mentioned it when they’d argued. Neither she nor William had registered the baby’s birth—as most parents didn’t—so the Mounties wouldn’t have easily discovered it.

“What is it?” Amanda asked after Pierce had disappeared inside. She offered her friend a chair.

Ellie preferred to stand. “Two orphans are comin’ to town.”

“Orphans?” Amanda felt her pulse rush in surprise.

“It’s too bad your cabin’s not built yet, aye, Amanda, or you could take ’em.”

Amanda’s mind began to race with possibilities. With hope. “Who are they?”

“Their pa was a telegrapher fer the CP Railway, and he’d been workin’ up at the camp that was surveyin’ the land north of here, at Lake Louise. Two years ago he and his wife drowned in a canoein’ accident. One of the older women in camp has been lookin’ after the children, but I hear her rheumatism’s gettin’ the better of her, and she can’t get around anymore.”

“Do they have any other family?”

“An aunt somewhere in Quebec, I hear, but the rumor is—” Ellie rushed forward and lowered her voice “—she’s got a terrible marriage, with five children of ’er own. She doesn’t want any more mouths to feed.”

“How awful for the children.”

“Yes, isn’t it, though?”

With his knee-high boots caked in mud, Donald came and slung an arm around Ellie’s shoulders, adjusting her blue shawl for her. It was an intimate gesture between a caring husband and his wife, and Amanda got caught up, witnessing his gentleness.

“Where are the orphans now?” Donald asked his wife.

“They’re comin’ in around seven or eight this evenin’, on the mud wagon from Lake Louise. They’ll stay with the conductor’s wife overnight, then board the train for Calgary in the mornin’. One of the orphanages has agreed to take ’em.”

An orphanage in Calgary? Was it Mrs. Blake’s, or the one run by the church? Amanda couldn’t imagine how
lonely and distant it must sound to the children. They must be frightened out of their wits at being shipped out of their home. What could she do about it?

“How old are they?” Tom asked. He’d quietly joined them, standing a foot away from her. The open collar at his throat revealed a hint of the chest beneath. Tough and lean, he unnerved her.

“I don’t know much more about ’em,” Ellie replied. “Mr. Langston at the mercantile said they were very young, but someone else in the store thought they were older. The conductor’s wife would probably know more.”

What could she do? Amanda wondered again. If she could meet the children, she’d be better able to make a decision, and ask if the children even
wanted
to stay here.

“What are you thinkin’, Amanda?” asked Ellie, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You couldn’t possibly keep them here in the shack. There’s not enough room for four people to sleep.”

Could they all squeeze in? “I’d just like to meet them.”

Ellie dropped her hands. Donald shifted beside his wife. “Amanda, Ellie and I have eight children of our own, and some of ’em are harder to look after than others. You’ve never met these children, so you don’t know what they’re like.”

Amanda ran a hand over her soiled apron. She was dressed in work clothes, and there wasn’t much time to spare if she were to meet the wagon. “There’s no harm in saying hello.”

Oh—she’d almost forgotten. Grandma. Amanda couldn’t entertain an idea like this without asking first. The older woman was all for taking in homeless children when the cabin was completed. In fact, they’d planned it well—if Amanda were called to a delivery in the middle of the night, Grandma would be here for the children. But if, on
the odd chance, these new children were to stay in the
shack
for the next four weeks—

“We have to go now,” said Ellie, cutting into Amanda’s thoughts. “I left the children preparin’ supper, but don’t dare leave ’em long. Please don’t do anythin’ rash.”

When the three of them left, Tom stood staring at her, large hands propped on his hips. His green eyes lit with something unreadable. He was assessing her. Again.

She really didn’t care what he thought of her, she told herself, or her plans for the children, but she was mighty grateful he was here at this particular moment. Surely he wouldn’t refuse her request, no matter what he thought of her, being divorced.

“Tom, would you mind since there’s no one else to ask on such short notice—” She moved back from him to give herself a comfortable space to breathe. “Would you mind giving me a lift to town? I prefer not to use my bicycle tonight.” Because if the children returned with her, they’d have to walk and how could they lug their suitcases alongside a bicycle? She’d hitch another ride home from someone else with a wagon, but she’d get there sooner with Tom.

She glanced up at his surprised face, hoping he’d put their argument behind them. “Please.”

“Children really do mean a lot to you, don’t they?”

“Yes, they do. An awful lot.”

His face, bronzed by the wind, was rugged and solemn. Something in his manner calmed her. “Then how can I say no?”

Her mouth curved into a soft smile. He returned her smile with one of his own, and there went that invisible pull of attraction.

“Thank you,” she blurted, filling with a giddy sense of
pleasure, stumbling and racing toward the shack. “I’ll tell Grandma.”

“I heard every word of Ellie’s explanation,” bellowed the round old woman from the door. “The next time you people start talking behind the children’s backs, make sure you don’t talk so loud. I had to prop the door open because of the smoke—”

“The smoke?” Amanda stepped into the shack.

“I burned the flapjacks. Got distracted by one of Pierce’s jokes.”

“I know it’s short notice, Grandma, and we weren’t figuring on it happening so soon, but would you mind if I brought the two children back here tonight?”

Grandma gazed at her with sharp eyes, then her expression softened. “I haven’t seen you this flushed and excited for a year and a half. It does my old heart good. Of course you can bring them back, but only if you think it’ll work out after you meet them and see who they are. Remember, they have to live with us for a while before someone adopts them, and stayin’ here might not be the best thing for us or them.”

Amanda hugged her plump grandmother, then glanced at the narrow cots. “I don’t know how we’ll all sleep in this tiny space.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll figure out somethin’. But you’ve got to change. You can’t go dressed like an old farmhand. It’s not proper.”

“I know,” said Amanda, already heading to the blue steamer trunk in the corner. She lifted the squeaky lid, searching beneath the special white angora shawl for her best suit. As a rancher’s wife she hadn’t needed many fancy clothes. It had been backbreaking work, tending to the cattle, and she had only one Sunday go-to-meeting suit.

It didn’t take her long to change. She unpinned her hair
and gave it a quick brush, allowing the curls to hang loose down her back.

When she exited the shack with her everyday shawl and satchel in hand, Tom had already turned the horse and wagon around, waiting for her. He was playing fetch with Wolf. When Tom spotted her, the arm that was holding the stick froze in midair. He straightened his angular shoulders and lowered his intense gaze from her head to her toes. His obvious pleasure made her stomach flutter.

“You just want to say hello to the children, huh?” he asked in a rough voice. “You’ll draw them like bees to honey.”

She swallowed and nodded. She knew the creamy peach jacket clung to her slender waistline, that the peplum flared gently over her hips. The long skirt and bustle accentuated her long thighs. She chose it because she thought the children might like the cheery color.

Tom stepped forward, cupping her face in his large warm hand. What was he doing, touching her again? Her heart began to beat to the pulse at the base of his throat. “The color of your suit goes well,” he murmured, “with your
sparkling
blue eyes.”

“Not sad this time?”

“No,” he said gently.

It must have been the thought of meeting the lonely children that did that to her.

When Tom helped her up to her seat, their warm fingers intertwined. Dressed in rough work clothes and smelling of fresh air and hard work, he was so male, his presence all-embracing.

As they rolled out, Wolf jumped into the buckboard and Grandma said goodbye.

“Is your pa feelin’ okay, Tom?” Grandma hollered.

Tom looked suddenly concerned. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Seems like he’s been avoidin’ me for the past week.”

Turning red, Tom cleared his throat and resettled into the firm seat beside her. Why did Grandma’s comment make him uncomfortable?

Amanda knew why. He’d probably told his father of her divorce, and the older man didn’t approve of her, either.

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered with shame, and they let it rest between them. She didn’t want to argue, either. Not tonight.

Dusk was falling. The woods seemed to sway with shadows, echoing with the cooing of birds, bonding her and Tom in an intimacy she tried to fight. The lull and creak of the wagon drew them closer.

“Have you found Finnigan yet?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“Did he…did he steal a lot from you?”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “That he did.”

The soft breeze toyed with her long hair. “What can I do to help you catch him?”

He stretched his long legs. “Would you speak to my friend, Graham? He’s the Mountie looking after the case.”

She nodded. “Sure. I can speak to him tomorrow. But I’m afraid I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you already.”

“Anything you say about Finnigan might help Graham.”

“Is overcharging for a property a crime?”

Tom shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“It should be. This cabin is all I have left. No extra money because of him.”

She dipped her hand inside her jacket pocket and pulled out her scratched pocket watch. “It’s close to seven. You
can drop me off at the edge of town and I’ll walk from there.”

He frowned. “I can’t dump you and leave you all alone.”

“I’m accustomed to being on my own.”

“For the children’s sake, I insist on driving you. How else would you get home?”

“I thought I’d ask someone else for a lift back.”

“Let me,” he coaxed.

Was he trying to be agreeable because of how he’d spoken to her last week? Was he concerned about the children as well? “All right, then. Thank you.” She was touched by the difference in him tonight.

Something dawned on her and she twisted in her seat to face him. “I’m sorry, Tom, I just realized you haven’t eaten supper yet.”

“I’m fine.”

“But you worked hard all day. You must be starved. I had an afternoon sandwich, so didn’t think of my stomach. I never thought to offer you—”

“The children are more important. I’ll eat later. I’ll swing by the house, though, and drop off Wolf.” He pulled on the reins to signal the horses.

She reached out and briefly touched his sleeve. Beneath her fingertips, she felt his muscles tighten with the contact.

“Please don’t,” she urged. “Let’s bring Wolf. I want the children to like me…they’ll like me more if I bring a dog.”

Tom frowned at her honest admission, and she felt silly for her awkwardness.

“They’ll like you,” he said with deep sincerity. When their eyes met, her heart went out to him. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

T
hey pulled into town and decided to wait in the mercantile for the time to pass. Amanda tried to contain her case of the nerves while Tom took the collar and chain he kept beneath the buckboard seat and secured Wolf to a scrub oak.

The tinsmith’s daughter was leaving the store as Tom held the door open. Amanda stepped up eagerly to greet her. Fannie’s freckled face glowed in the lamplight.

“Hello, Fannie,” said Amanda. “How are you feeling?”

Svelte and not yet showing beneath her high-collared frock, Fannie Potter avoided looking into Amanda’s eyes. “Fine, thank you. I’m glad I ran into you, though. I’m switching my care to Dr. Murdock.”

Amanda withered at the news. Tom eased his broad frame next to hers, looking perplexed himself.

“You know how it is,” Fannie continued. “I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. I feel more comfortable with him.” She bit her lower lip, close to tears.

More comfortable with him? Amanda tried not to show her disappointment. She placed a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “It’s nothing to worry about.
Heaven knows you’ve got enough to handle, taking care of yourself and the baby on the way. I understand your decision.”

Fannie left with an awkward glance to the floor. Was there more to it? One of the reasons Amanda had been able to afford having Tom dig the added root cellar was because she’d gotten Fannie as a patient, and others were trickling in. Last week, Amanda had made two emergency house calls. One for a girl with an aching tooth that needed yanking, and the other for an infant boy with gastroenteritis, also on the mend.

Had she done something to upset Fannie? Amanda couldn’t think of anything.

While she waited to get to the crowded counter, where Emmett Langston was weighing chipped beef on his scales for three European tourists dressed in dapper clothing, she heard two young women call out to Tom behind her.

“Howdy, Tom. You going to the ball?”

“I think I have to. I’m one of the evening’s speakers.”

“Isn’t that nice? I hear Clarissa’s out of town. We’d be mighty happy to take you instead,” drawled her friend.

“I’ll let you know,” he said, humor edging his words.

At the obvious innuendos, Amanda felt heat rush to her cheeks. Was Tom pleased with the attention?

Of course, she thought. What man wouldn’t be?

She knew the ladies were speaking of the grand opening ceremonies for the Banff Springs Hotel, taking place in three weeks. The hotel would be officially opening for business in two, on the first of June, but they planned the gala ball for the Saturday a week later, after all the travelers had arrived. The whole town was bubbling with excitement at talk of a live orchestra, rich food, even fireworks. Amanda couldn’t fathom spending that kind of
money on a ball gown used for only one event. If she had any money to spare, she’d use it on her young patients.

Her turn came at the counter. “I need lamp oil, please.”

Dressed in a white-and-black-striped shirt, and black bow tie, Mr. Langston asked, “What kind? Whale oil?”

“I tried that last week. It doesn’t burn long enough.”

“Fish oil? It’s on sale today.”

“It’s too smoky.”

“How about kerosene? You pay a bit extra, but it burns longest and brightest.”

“That sounds just about right.”

Tom dipped his mouth low to her ear and whispered, “You sound like Goldilocks, checking out her beds. Too hard, too soft, just right.”

Amusement hovered at the back of her throat. He’d moved so close to her, she felt his warm breath at her temples. Their camaraderie broke the tension of the past seven days, and she felt herself warming toward him. Was it safe to be friendly?

“Here you are,” Mr. Langston said, holding out the jug. “Be careful, it’s heavy. Must weigh close to eight pounds.”

Amanda went to reach for it, but was suddenly awash with memories.
Close to eight pounds…
She tried to steady herself, but the bottles and jars behind Mr. Langston swirled before her eyes. What would the precious weight feel like in her arms? If any of the mothers in her care ever lost their baby, Amanda would ensure they got to hold and comfort their son or daughter as their angel slipped to heaven. Who had comforted her baby girl? What kind of mother had she been?

Tom grabbed the jug. “I’ll take it.” He stared at her. “You look pale. Are you all right?”

She took a deep breath. Her shaky hand slipped to her
side. Here in Banff, she’d learned she wasn’t the only mother who’d lost a child. Last year, rubella had taken two babies from the Smythes, and down the road, the Cavanaghs had lost a three-year-old to consumption—
tuberculosis.
People picked themselves up and carried on, and she’d carry on, too. “It’s a bit crowded in here.”

“Let’s go outside. Do you have everything you need?”

She nodded and they left. Standing on the boardwalk in the night, she steadied her breathing, glad for the man by her side. She followed the movements of the lamplighter, making his way with his long torch, lighting the lamps one by one.

“There’s the conductor’s wife,” Tom said, pointing across the street, in front of Ruby’s Dining and Boarding House. “She must be waiting for the children.”

Amanda and Tom crossed the busy road, through the buggies, oxen and tourists. Even in a crowd, Tom’s presence commanded authority. He nodded at someone passing. Amanda followed his gaze, only to see two ranch hands gawking and whistling at her. She swung around, feeling herself blush.

“Mrs. Hawthorne,” Tom introduced when they crossed the street, “I’d like you to meet Amanda Ryan.”

“I was wondering if I might have a word with you,” Amanda said to the frail, white-haired woman, “about the children.”

“Yes?”

“I’m a midwife and my grandpa trained me to work with children. I understand they’ve been orphaned for two years. I’m considering—if they agree—to take them in, until we find a suitable adoptive family for them here in Banff. It would be so much better for them to stay in the area where they grew up.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss,” the old woman mum
bled. “But it may be a long while till someone adopts these children. Until then, they may be a bigger burden for you than you think. They’ll be fine in Calgary.” She gazed down Banff Avenue, but there was no sign of a stagecoach.

“Bigger burden? How do you mean?”

“The younger one, Josh, he’s only four, but people say he’s
slow.
He doesn’t speak much. Most of it is garbled.”

“Oh,” said Amanda.

“How sad,” said Tom, mirroring her thoughts.

“And his sister, Margaux, she’s thirteen I believe, and she…well, she wears spectacles.”

“Eye glasses?” Amanda asked.

The old woman nodded, as if embarrassed. “So young to be wearin’ spectacles, you see, and people—potential suitors that is—worry she may go blind before her time.”

“Because she wears spectacles?” Amanda nearly choked on the woman’s ignorance. “Why, my grandpa wore spectacles, and his eyesight was sharper than mine. I think it’s wonderful someone got her the glasses she needed. Not everyone has the good fortune to find an eye doctor—”

“I’m just tellin’ you the way it is. It’ll most likely be a few years for her to find a beaux. And hearin’ how devoted she is to her little brother, I imagine whoever she marries will have to agree to look after the boy, as well. And then her eye problem…well, you see how it is.”

Amanda longed to help the children all the more. Tom cupped his warm palm on her shoulder, and it steadied her.

The woman peered closer. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to be the woman who rides that bicycle?”

“That’s right,” Amanda said, smiling, hoping the woman had heard she was friendly and reliable.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s nose pinched. “The one who’s
divorced?
”

Amanda’s face heated. She looked to Tom. How had news of her divorce got out to the public?

He dropped his hand from her shoulder, but leaned closer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how that got out. I didn’t mention it to anyone—” with a sigh, he looked up at the dark sky “—except my father. And I thought he knew to keep it confidential.”

Amanda toyed with her fingers, unsure of how she felt. “I should have spoken up from the very beginning, like Grandma said.”

Mrs. Hawthorne listened with disdain. “I’m not sure folks in town would like a divorced woman caring for the children. And shame on you, hidin’ behind a veil of widowhood.”

Tom’s lean profile stiffened. He rallied to her defense. “Now hold on, here. Amanda did nothing to smear the honorable status of widowhood.”

“
That’s
why Fannie changed her mind,” said Amanda.

“And a bicycle, to boot.” The old woman clicked her tongue, making Amanda feel even smaller. “There’s no tellin’ what some women intend on doin’, is there? Just comin’ and goin’ whenever you please. It’s not natural.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Tom insisted.

Mrs. Hawthorne clutched her scarf around her wrinkled throat. “You’re with her, Tom? You’ll vouch for her?”

Amanda lowered her head, more determined than ever to introduce herself to the children, to give them the option of staying with whom they pleased.

She suddenly felt the earth rumble beneath her feet. Glancing down the dirt street, she spotted a team of horses thundering toward them. The rudimentary stagecoach, or mud wagon as it was called because it was designed for rough backcountry trails, was almost here.

“Yes,” Tom said, springing forward. Amanda basked in the power of his voice. “I’ll vouch for her.”

“What have you got in the crate?” Tom asked the boy, Josh, two minutes after the mud wagon doors had opened. Tom suspected he already knew the answer because he’d glimpsed a tiny ball of orange fur through the wooden slats.

Wearing a drab, gray wool cap pulled over his unruly brown hair, gray suspenders and patched brown knickers, the four-year-old gingerly balanced the pen on his lap. He wouldn’t look directly at Tom, but his solemn sister, Margaux, did. Amanda and Mrs. Hawthorne had already introduced themselves to Margaux and Josh Somerville, and were helping the slender-boned girl step down to the dimly lit, noisy boardwalk.

When Margaux’s laced boots reached the planks, she bounced beside Tom, braids trailing, more energetic than she looked. A long brown dress with faded polka dots, obviously a hand-me-down belonging to a much older and bigger woman, hung off her bony shoulders.

“My brother Josh doesn’t talk very much,” Margaux replied cautiously, eyeing Tom through gold-wire spectacles. “He’s not bein’ rude, sir, he’s just…not a big talker.”

“That’s all right.” Tom grinned, trying to be friendly. “Sometimes I’m not a big talker, either.”

He held out his large hand to help the boy hop out, but Josh turned to his sister instead. The two children looked as frightened as they probably felt. Tom lifted the satchel from the coach floor then eased back into his work boots and gave them the space they sought.

When the boy disembarked and stood beside the team of four horses, behind his sister’s skirts, he stared at Tom. How much of the conversation did the boy understand?
The eye contact was good, Tom noticed, and there was clarity in Josh’s brown gaze.

Amanda fanned a palm above the crate and smiled. “It looks like a little kitten to me. Is it yours?”

Josh didn’t answer. Mrs. Hawthorne wearily shook her head.

Night lights illuminated Amanda’s creamy skin. She was trying hard to put the children at ease, and her compassion was engaging. After their harsh encounter with Mrs. Hawthorne, Tom was beginning to realize why Amanda had kept her divorce to herself. Was this how all divorced women were treated?

Margaux wrapped her arm around her brother and the two of them clung together. Tom watched her pale hands tremble. “Nana gave her to us. Her cat had kittens and she wanted us to have one as a present. Said she couldn’t afford anything else.”

Nana must be the woman who’d cared for them in the camp. Amanda’s gaze caught Tom’s. By the tender expression in her eyes, he knew what she was thinking. The same thing he probably was. That he wanted to reach out and tell the youngsters that everything was going to be okay. But everything was
not
okay. They’d lost their parents two years ago, they’d just said goodbye to the woman who’d been caring for them, and were heading to an orphanage.

Even at this very minute they were facing three complete strangers. And one of them was sour-faced Mrs. Hawthorne.

The old woman cleared her grumpy throat. “You can’t take a kitten with you to Calgary. Why didn’t your nana think of that? The orphanage can’t look after stray animals.”

“Maybe they can,” said Amanda. “Is it the church orphanage?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make a difference. It’s not healthy for the other children. And you certainly can’t keep it in my house overnight. I spent two hours this mornin’ scrubbin’ and waxin’ my floors.”

Tom wished Mrs. Hawthorne would stop complaining. He must have scowled, for both children had jumped away from the old woman and her puckered mouth, to gaze at Tom’s expression.

“How long has your kitten been in there?” he asked Josh. “Would you like to let it out?”

Margaux pressed her face close to the slats and peered at the orange face. “The crate is just for carryin’ her. We had her free on the ride. The driver stopped every so often to tend to her. About ten minutes ago, she drank water and ate biscuits.”

“When’s the last time
you
ate?” Tom asked the children.

The girl instantly sobered. “I don’t remember. People keep askin’, but we’re not very hungry today.”

Tom could understand it. Who could be hungry on the day you were being driven out of the only home you knew?

With a grumble, Amanda hiked herself to her feet, accidentally grazing Tom’s arm in the process. His pulse skipped a beat.

“What’s your kitten’s name?” asked Amanda.

“Awggie,” said Josh. His mouth twisted during the pronunciation, struggling to speak. Tom and Amanda were so surprised to hear him speak, they smiled at each other.