The Midwife's Secret

“The Cave and Basin have cabins set up, one for men and one for women.” He studied her. Clarissa had done it all—hiking, soaking in the hot springs, packing trails, fishing, hunting, ice-boat sailing in the winter. What would it be like to take Amanda to the springs? He was certain she’d be shy to remove her clothing, even if she were only surrounded by other women. Unlike Clarissa. “Did you know they accidentally built the hotel backward?”

She bit her lip. “Now you’re teasing.”

“Aye, it’s true,” Ellie piped in.

“Apparently,” said Tom, “someone misinterpreted the blueprints.”

“Blueprints?” Amanda asked.

“The drawing plans.”

“Oh.” As she turned to face him, her waist twisted, accentuating the outline of her breasts beneath the cloth. “But weren’t you involved in its building?”

He pulled up to a sitting position and tried to find something else to look at, rather than her unexpected contours. He spotted an elk lapping at the river’s edge. When he indicated the elk to her, she smiled, unaware of her allure.

“I supplied the lumber and one crew of finishing carpenters, but they hired their own framers. The front of the building is where the back should be, and the back is where the front should be. The kitchen staff got the best view of the river valley, so they’re not complaining. Luckily, the view is beautiful no matter what direction you turn the hotel.”

Donald plucked the checkered cloths from their laps and packed them. “I hear now they’re havin’ their troubles with burstin’ water pipes. Too much water pressure.”

“Even after piping the water sixty-nine hundred feet,” Tom said, “it still comes out strong. A hot one hundred and ten degrees. Amazing.”

“Tell us what it looks like on the inside,” said Donald. “Has the fancy furniture arrived fer it yet?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, last week. In the ballroom, they’ve got mahogany dining chairs with ball and claw feet, look just like authentic Chippendale. Smooth as silk. As you enter the lobby, they’ve got tables with inlaid patterns of satinwood. Tapered legs and shield-back chairs to match, replicas of Hepplewhite.”

When they’d finished eating, Amanda wiped crumbs off her skirt. Was it his imagination, or was she squirming away from him? Tom wondered as they headed back.

As soon as she spotted them, Grandma tore off on her bicycle to visit the neighbors rather than help in the afternoon. Tom breathed a huge sigh of relief, but Donald frowned in disapproval.

He leaned in close to Tom’s ear. “Folks are sayin’ they’re a wee bit strange, ridin’ around on that thing.”

Tom kept chopping his cedar. “It’s their choice to do as they please. Timmm…bbber.” He watched the tree crash, being very careful of Amanda’s whereabouts. He’d been aware of her whereabouts the whole day. He didn’t want any injuries on his hands, he told himself.

But every time he looked her way or stepped closer to offer his help in dragging branches, she’d ignored him. Ignored him! He wasn’t used to being ignored.

In the late afternoon, loading up their supplies, Amanda removed her gloves and ran a hand over her mass of thick hair, tendrils that had escaped in the wind. She’d been bitten by blackflies, Tom noticed, along her slender neck and in the hollow of her throat. Even the tops of her hands. He shook his head. Her lotion must have rubbed off. If he’d noticed earlier, he would have sent her to sit in the shack.

Donald took the shovel from Amanda. “Why do you ride a bicycle and not a horse?”

She clapped the dust from her gloves. “The cost of oats for a bicycle is remarkably low.”

Tom laughed, but Donald wasn’t so sure.

Keeping his gaze on Amanda, Tom replied thoughtfully. “And you don’t have to water it, or shoe it, or ever file its teeth. Or worry that the wild hay you’re feeding it is lacking nourishment because there was too much summer rain.”

She made a quick, involuntary appraisal of his face. Her eyes softened. “That’s right.”

Yeah, she was a damn fascinating woman.

“I’ll need a well dug,” she said to Tom as they were leaving. “Can you set up a spring room in the cabin?”

“I could. I’ll bring my father before the week is up. He’s good at finding water. We’ll locate the well, then build the house around that. You should go in now, put something on those bites.” The last part came out more tenderly than he’d wanted.

She swallowed and nodded gently. Donald disappeared down the path that led to his home. Tom walked in the opposite direction to his wagon.

While the horse pulled out and clomped down the path, something made Tom turn to stare at the cabin window. She was watching him. A lantern glowed behind her, playing softly against her cheeks. When she pulled the curtain closed, his body sank with an unexpected feeling of…what?

Disappointment. He turned around and settled into the stiff wooden seat. So what if he was a little lonesome.

He certainly knew the cause. It had nothing to do with Amanda. With a weary sigh, he thought about what he’d lost with Clarissa.

During breakfast, Amanda found herself peeking down the path for signs of Donald and Tom more frequently than necessary. Their fourth day together, and they’d gotten into a rhythm.

“Is he here yet?” her grandma asked over porridge, scrutinizing Amanda.

“No sign of them.” Amanda knew what her Grandma was up to. What she’d been up to for the past year, trying to attach Amanda to every available, half-decent man who came calling.

“I’m just eager for the company of friends, Grandma. Good hard work, clear mountain air and sunshine is what both of us need after the year we’ve been through.”

“Why don’t you tell people the truth—”

“I think I hear a horse.” Amanda bolted out the door, happy to escape the unwanted questions.

Donald hadn’t arrived yet on foot, but Tom and Wolf were rolling in.

Tom’s breath could be seen in the chill air as he leaped off the wagon. Looking up as she approached, he swung his lean body over the back boards and in one fluid motion, lifted the heavy axes. The warmth of his smile echoed in his husky voice. “How’s everyone this morning?”

She stooped to pet Wolf’s head. “Very well.”

With powerful arms, Tom unhitched his horse. His shoulders filled the corners of his suede coat. He glanced at the stack of wood by the shack door. “I see you got someone to help you chop those branches we cut yesterday. That’s a neat little pile of firewood.”

When she didn’t meet his gaze, he glanced down at her, then at her fidgeting hands. Why hadn’t she put on gloves before she’d come outside? She hid her arms behind her back.

With a calculating eye, he took a long step forward and slid out her hands, holding them in his. His head dipped so close to hers, she could barely think of anything else. He stared at her blisters. “Don’t tell me you chopped the firewood on your own? By yourself?”

She gulped hard. “Who else is there?”

The question brought a twinge of compassion to his features.

After a moment of stumped silence, he nodded quietly, turned slowly, and began sorting through his tools. “We should be finished clearing the trees today. Tomorrow, I’ll bring the mules to dig the stumps.”

“When do you think your pa will be coming?”

“I asked him to come this morning. He lives just up the road and around the corner.”

Amanda glanced through the trees. A red wool coat and a white horse flashed through the leaves. “Is that him now?”

Tom swung around. “Pa?”