The Midwife's Secret (15 page)

“We can take it nice and slow. I won’t pressure you into anything. You’re a
vital
woman, so full of life, who has more to offer than any—”

“Tom, look at this!” Margaux called. As they turned to watch the children play leapfrog, Tom’s hand slid off
Amanda’s arm. A coldness remained where he’d touched her. Why did she feel so much better when his hands were on her?

“I’m worried about Josh’s future,” said Tom.

“I know how you feel,” Amanda whispered, staring at the four-year-old who seemed happy playing in the sunshine. She was very concerned about him, too, but surprised that Tom thought so deeply about him. “It’s one thing to get through childhood with his speech problems and the troublesome way people look down on him, but quite another to face the challenges when he becomes an adult.”

Her voice drifted to a hush and she opened up to Tom, saying the things she hadn’t been able to share with anyone else. “Yesterday when I took the two of them to visit the school, I heard two of the older children whispering names as he passed.”

Tom reached out and cupped her shoulder, easing her burden, letting her go on without interrupting, just listening.

“Josh didn’t understand, but Margaux did. I saw her turn white and stiffen. Josh is too young to go to school yet for a couple of years, but how long will it be until he understands what they’re calling him?”

Tom sighed and kept rubbing, kept listening.

“The O’Hara children are really good to him and treat him like the normal boy he is, but as he grows older… I don’t know who’ll hire him, or how he’ll make his living. Or how he’ll cope with aging. Or even if he’ll ever find a woman to love him.”

Tom was obviously shaken by her words. “I’ve thought of it all, too. He’s a smart boy. When you spend some time with him, you can easily see it.” Tom whistled, calling the children to his side.

Margaux squatted near Amanda, and Josh sat on Tom’s lap. Tom gave the boy a hug, allowing his lips to rest for a second on the boy’s forehead before asking, “Can you say ‘My name is Josh’?”

Amanda watched the interplay, touched by Tom’s compassion for Josh and his desire to help.

The boy mumbled something incomprehensible.

Amanda tried next. Josh still couldn’t get it. “Face me,” she said gently, staring at the boy’s mouth. “Try again, sweetheart.” When his mouth tried to form the words, Amanda gasped.

She stared into his mouth around his tongue.

Her pulse skipped a beat, comprehending what she was seeing…. He had a medical problem that was causing his speech impediment. One that was treatable!

“What is it?” asked Tom.

A cry of joy broke from her lips. She jumped to her feet. If she was right, Josh’s world was about to change. She
was
right, she knew she was, and she trembled right through to her bones. But she didn’t want to startle the children and couldn’t say. “Why don’t you children go on up to the shack? Right away. Get cleaned up. We’re going into town for a little adventure. We’re going to visit Tom’s brother, Dr. Quaid.”

“Quaid?” asked Tom, rising to stand tall above her. “Why Quaid?”

“Is Tom comin’ with us?” Margaux asked.

“Yes,” said Amanda, feeling buoyant.

When the children scrambled up the hill, Amanda turned to Tom. “Josh can’t speak properly because the lingual frenulum—
the membrane beneath his tongue
—is holding it down, obstructing his speech. I should have seen it earlier. Good Lord, the boy’s not mentally imbalanced, he’s only tongue-tied!”

“J
osh’s speech will be normal?” Tom asked Quaid two hours later, still amazed at the whole turn of events, especially thrilled at Amanda’s perception in exposing the problem.

“It’ll take you two years to catch up with your speech,” Quaid said to Josh while he examined the youngster on the leather padded table. “You didn’t go through the regular babble and gurgle sounds you would have as a baby, so you’ll have to learn those now.”

“We’ll help you through it,” said Amanda, holding on to Josh’s hand on one side, her arm around Margaux’s slender shoulders on the other.

Quaid helped the timid four-year-old rise to a sitting position. “You’ll be fine, Josh.”

Tom’s gaze turned to Amanda again. His appreciative eye traveled from the laugh lines at her eyes to her upturned mouth. Pride filled him. She had just accomplished something incredible. She’d turned Josh’s future around. Tom ached to reach over and touch her, to kiss her in congratulation.

Margaux’s face appeared beside her brother’s. Her lips
paled. Was she frightened? “What do you have to do to him?”

Amanda got down to her level. “See this piece of skin holding down my tongue?” Amanda stuck her tongue in the air and twirled it up so the girl and boy could study it. “Dr. Quaid is going to make a small adjustment underneath Josh’s. He’s going to make a little stitch, much smaller than Tom got in his arm.” She explained to Josh. “The doctor’s going to give you medicine to make you fall asleep, so it won’t hurt. When you wake up, it’ll all be finished.”

“Boo-boo?” asked Josh.

“No boo-boo, we promise,” vowed Tom.

Margaux peered at the long waxed tips of Quaid’s mustache. “You have a funny mustache.”

The group laughed, and in his exuberance, Tom reached out and allowed his arm to trail down Amanda’s. His touch seemed to upset her calm. Although she reclaimed her arm and color rose to her cheeks, her eyes sparkled with an inner excitement.

Tom reached to the shelf for an oval mirror and passed it down to the children.

“What’s this?” asked Margaux.

“It’s a fancy mirror,” said Tom. “Have you ever seen one?”

“No,” breathed Margaux, clutching the ornate silver handle.

Tom grinned at their amused expressions. “Go ahead, make some faces.”

Margaux hugged her little brother, then the two of them raced to the leather wing chair in the corner to examine their tongues in the mirror while the adults talked.

Amanda cleared her throat and glanced around the room, at its well-polished oak furniture, the lines of labeled bot
tles above Quaid’s head, the brand-new leather examination table. “My cabin’s not built yet, Quaid, so I don’t have the sterility or facilities you do here. And you know how difficult it would be for me, working on a patient who feels like part of my own family…I can’t do the procedure. Could you do this for us?”

“Of course I’ll do it.”

“I could assist you.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“I’ll have to make payment another—”

“Amanda,” Tom interrupted. He shifted in his boots, towering over the other two, glancing at his brother. “There’s no need.”

“I agree with my brother.” Quaid turned to face the wall, fumbling, making as if he were checking his stethoscope, but Tom knew how difficult it was for Quaid to admit Amanda’s brilliance in discovering Josh’s problem. “This is for the boy,” Quaid said.

“I should have noticed his problem earlier.” Amanda played with her fingers. “I didn’t look for it—”

“Neither did I,” said Quaid, very quietly. “And I’ve seen him a few times myself.”

Say you’re sorry,
thought Tom of his brother.
Admit how skilled Amanda is.

Quaid said nothing more.

Tom leaned against the table, squeezing his large injured shoulder past the wall shelf. The sutures were out, but it was still tender. “When can you do it?”

“Well, that depends.” Quaid looked at the clock. “I’ve got to make a house call in two hours to remove a splint. I’m free now, but I’d have to use chloroform and put the boy under. His stomach has to be empty,” he explained to Tom, “so that he can’t choke during the procedure. When was the last time he ate?”

“This morning.” Amanda sprang forward, as if she were prepared for the question. “Around seven. I didn’t have them eat lunch before we came to you, in case—”

“You thought of everything,” said Tom.

Quaid’s jaw flexed. What was it with him? thought Tom. Did he feel threatened by Amanda’s expertise? He was being ridiculous, and Tom would tell him so as soon as he got him alone. Why, Quaid had nothing but the best money could buy in this office, while Amanda made do with old medical supplies, in a shack! With no complaints, he might add.

He wished he could give Amanda the same advantages Quaid had. She was unbelievable.

“It’ll be easier on the children if we do it now,” Amanda continued. “It’ll only upset them if they have to worry about it for tomorrow, or the next day.”

“Fine,” said Quaid in approval.

“Can I stay to assist?”

“Suit yourself.”

Amanda and Quaid stayed with Josh while Tom took Margaux to the waiting room. Tom hoped—prayed—that it went well for the boy. Hell, Tom admitted, he was more than a little anxious knowing Josh would be put to sleep. But at least he was in there with the two people Tom trusted most to perform the operation.

Twenty minutes later Amanda poked her head out the door. Tom jumped when he saw her. She was flushed and radiant. “It’s all finished. He’s fine. He’s still asleep, though. Quaid says he has a bedroom for his patients down the hall. Would you mind carrying Josh to the room?”

With Margaux bouncing at his side, Tom strode toward the office. “Not at all.”

Amanda smiled at Margaux. “Come see your brother.”

They sat by Josh’s bed for two hours while he slept.
There was packing beneath his tongue, so his mouth looked full, and Amanda said he’d be groggy and feeling nauseous when he awoke.

Tom got up and walked to Quaid’s kitchen, and with the help of Quaid’s elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Garvey, he brought back a loaf of rye and smoked meat. Even though Amanda declined, Margaux ate heartily.

“You’ve got to eat, Amanda,” said Tom, waiting for her to bite into her sandwich before he attempted his own. “When Josh wakes up, he’ll need you.” He sat beside her on the bench, with Margaux nestled on the rug between them.

Amanda began eating, never taking her eyes off the little boy.

Tom watched her. Her head was capped by a mass of lustrous black hair. Although her dress was simple, the woman beneath was anything but. “What you discovered about Josh was amazing.”

Amanda leaned her back against the wall, straightening her thighs beside him. When she broke into a wide smile, he felt a sensual pull between them. “Unbelievable news, isn’t it?”

“Incredible.”

Quaid knocked on the door then, checking on Josh, going over his care treatment with Amanda, then retrieving Tom to the hallway, out of earshot. “Will you take them home?”

Tom crossed his arms. “I’ll take care of them, you go to your house call. Thanks for what you did in there. I’ll let the housekeeper know to lock up when we leave.”

Quaid nodded and glanced at Tom’s shirt, at his injured side. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. All set for dancing tomorrow.”

Quaid frowned as he slid into his jacket. “You’re still going to take her?”

“She’s still saying no, but I’ve got a few hours left to convince her.”

“I really think you should reconsider—”

“I don’t need your advice. Besides, you’re not even going to be there. Your train to pick up your wife leaves tonight.”

“God, you’re stubborn. Just because you’re the oldest, you treat me and Gabe like we don’t know anything.”

“Me?”

“Fannie tells me Amanda hasn’t picked up any more new patients because no one in town knows what to make of her—”

“That’s not true. She’s still looking after Ellie, and Donald told me that the Smythes called her for one of their children in the middle of the night—”

“Well, yes, Amanda lives closer to them than I do.”

“Amanda diagnosed mumps and quarantined the children.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t you work
with
her, instead of against her? She could be a help to the folks in town. She’s a big help already. There’s enough work for the both of you—”

“That’s not what it is.” Quaid’s voice rose.

“I think it is. And I’m not sure I know you sometimes.”

“Your business affects all of us in this family, but it’s
you
I’m worried about. Once I get on my feet, I can help you, but not for another six months. As a person, I think Amanda seems all right, but people are looking at you strangely, and Fannie and her father keep asking me what you’re doing with her. Why can’t you back away from her until your business is back on track?”

Tom scoffed. “Because it’s not my style to back away.”

Quaid clicked his tongue with exasperation. “I’ve got to run.” Shaking his head, he reached out and playfully
punched Tom on his good shoulder. “I should really stay and kill you, but I don’t have the time. I’ll have to do it when I see you next.”

Tom’s irritation at his younger brother melted. “Have a safe trip to Winnipeg. I’ll pick you up at the station when you get back. Monday evening, right?”

Quaid nodded.

“Say howdy to Beth. Tell her the baby cradle is finished, one month ahead of schedule.”

“She’ll be happy to hear it,” said Quaid as he raced out the door with hat and bag in hand.

As he watched his brother leave, Tom knew Quaid only had his best interests at heart. But sometimes his advice was misdirected, particularly with Amanda. Didn’t Quaid have enough to worry about with Beth eight months along and the two of them expecting their first?

Quaid had initially balked at Beth traveling so late in her confinement, but her mother had been gravely ill and Beth had thought it might be the last time she’d see her. So Quaid had accompanied his wife to Winnipeg two months ago, and in the end, her mother had recovered from her bout of pneumonia.

Tom had been excited at their announcement that they were expecting. He was going to be an uncle and a godfather for the first time, and he’d cherished the news, anticipating the day when he’d become a father, too. At the time of the announcement, he’d thought it would be with Clarissa.

But Clarissa was gone, and Amanda was here.

And Amanda would never have his children.

Pulling himself together, he walked back into the room and watched her. She gently coaxed a groggy Josh to a sitting position, giving him ice chips to suck, then broth to drink. She made sure Margaux was allowed to help care for her brother even though Tom knew it would be faster
and easier for Amanda to lay the pillow or to tie the boy’s shoes.

While they recuperated, he slipped away from them for more than an hour, saying he needed to check on his men, but really making his secret calls. He visited the dressmaker, then dropped off the packages to Miss Clementine, assuring her Josh was fine, pledging her to secrecy for the afternoon but seeking her help in his other plan concerning Pierce.

In the late afternoon, when they all left Quaid’s, he pulled the wagon to Amanda’s door, taking Josh inside and laying him on his cot.

Amanda came outside to say goodbye to Tom. They were both quiet, both anticipating the other’s move, he reckoned. Should he ask her again? Had he asked too many times already?

Could he handle it if she said no?

When he simply nodded goodbye and slid into the darkness with his horse and wagon, he wondered what she’d do when she opened the packages. Would she show up at the ball?

Did she care at all about him?

Beside the crackling woodstove, after the children were settled in their beds for the night and their heavy breathing echoed off the beams, Grandma uncovered her bedspread to reveal two brown packages.

“What’s that?” asked Amanda in dismay, looking at Grandma’s tender expression. Both of them wore their flannel nightshirts. “Where did they come from?”

The huge one rested on a hanger. Grandma lifted it and slid it over the top of the door. The package nearly touched the floor. “Tom brought them this afternoon.”

“But he was with me.” Then she realized. “Except for that hour.”

“That’s the hour he was here. I believe these are your clothes for the ball.”

“Mine?” whispered Amanda. He’d thought of the ball, after all he’d done for them this afternoon? She hadn’t thought of it once since Josh’s problem was discovered.

She knew she wanted to go with Tom. Deep in her heart, she knew she wanted to, to dance in his arms, to feel those muscular arms pressed against her back, to breathe the scent of his skin.

How had he arranged for a
gown?

“I can look after Josh while you go. John promised he’d help, and Ellie said she’d stop by to call on us. Tom arranged for Margaux to be invited to the ball, too, to accompany Pierce. Ellie’s already been over with a hand-me-down dress for her, if she’d like to attend. Pierce will wear his father’s suit.”

“Tom arranged for Margaux to come, too?”

Grandma nodded. “Apparently, there’s a group of older children going together. You know how much the girl would love to go.”

“I’m sure she would.” A thirteen-year-old girl would adore the ball. Dear, kindhearted Tom had thought of Margaux as well as her.

What did the gown look like? How had he known her measurements? How could he afford it, when he was so strapped himself? Stepping to the package, she removed the visible note, attached to the paper by a stickpin. Her hand trembled as she opened the parchment.

With a long, limber stride, Tom stepped out from the crowded ballroom into the foyer of the Banff Springs Ho
tel, peering over the dozens of heads making their way down the marble corridor. The grandfather clock in the corner read seven forty-five. Still no sign of Amanda.

Wearing a double-breasted black gentleman’s suit with tails, Tom headed toward the grand entrance, saying hello to passersby, soaking in the wealth and splendor of his surroundings.