The Midwife's Secret by Kate Bridges Page B

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 ofmoney 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 herside. 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 mumbled. “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