Kate Bridges - The Midwife's Secret

He felt a movement beside his boot and looked down. Wolf was digging a deep hole.

“Stop that,” Tom reprimanded. “If someone falls in that hole, they could twist their ankle. Go chase a squirrel.” After a friendly pat on the head, the dog bounced away, but Amanda frowned at his gruffness. When he ignored her, she left. Good. He gently slapped the rear of one of the mules to start it walking in a circle, then adjusted his big leather work gloves.

He admitted, being divorced wasn’t a thing most people would brag about, but why hide who you are?

He knew of only three people who’d ever been divorced; none in this town. One older gent back in Toronto who was an alcoholic, one young miner in the Rockies whose poor wife couldn’t take any more beatings, and a tourist passing through last summer whose wife had caught him with his third mistress.

It was common knowledge that more women were divorced in the West than the East. Women were scarcer here, so if their husbands mistreated them in any way, they divorced, taking their children and quickly remarrying—to one of many men in the West grateful for the company and partnership of a woman. But that’s not what had happened to Amanda.

From what Graham had said, it was Amanda’s husband who’d divorced her. Graham hadn’t uncovered the circumstances, and Tom had stopped Amanda’s investigation. No sense asking Graham to uncover more about a woman Tom didn’t care for. Besides, it was bordering on prying, and he still had his code of honor.

While Donald tended to the mules and gave them water, Tom cleared brush beside his father, who was creating a garden for the women. Pa was in a jovial mood this morning, causing Tom to brighten.

“Sure is nice today,” Pa said. “The blackflies are gone, and the sun is warm.”

Squinting in the warm rays, Tom gazed up at the hills. The landscape quivered in the wind, with a dozen hues of green. The soft yellow-green of fresh grass, the brilliant green of unfolding maple leaves, and the blue-green growth of spruce needles. Blue jays and cardinals rustled through the woods, and insects hummed above his head. The earthy scent was intoxicating.

Tom blurted affectionately, “Pa, why don’t you come live with me?”

The old man took off his straw hat and fanned the air. “Go on now. Come live with you and Clarissa? You know me and her don’t see eye to eye. Why, she’d have my things packed and bundled by the door before I got back from the privy.”

Lifting his shovel, Tom flipped a furrow of dirt. The hard muscles of his biceps tightened. “Clarissa’s not going to be around.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“She’s gone to visit family for the summer.”

“For good?”

“For the summer.”

“What does that mean? Are you two over?”

Tom stopped digging to catch his breath. “Yeah, I guess we are.” Saying it out loud made it seem final. It was final.

Pa kept shoveling, surprising Tom with his endurance. “I’m not helpless, no matter what your brothers think. I’ll live alone until I can no longer put my pants on by myself.”

Tom sighed. When the mules finished uprooting the first stump, Tom and Donald hitched them to the second. It was hard, physical work, and Tom was reminded of Clarissa’s asking, Why don’t you become the doctor or lawyer? Why do you do it all for your brothers? Why do you choose such difficult labor?

Because I feel like a trapped rabbit inside the walls of any office. I like fresh air and miles of wilderness, he’d told her, but obviously, she hadn’t been impressed.

Tom stepped beside his father. “How are your new horses doing?”

“They’re magnificent.” Pa beamed, making all of Tom’s perseverance worthwhile.

“Glad you like ’em.”

“Now, I think I’ve got some black licorice gum to deliver,” Pa said, gazing at Miss Clementine by the outdoor fire. He rooted for something in the top pocket of his red jacket. “Her favorite.”

With caution, Tom gazed at the two ladies, who were boiling a kettle of potatoes over an open flame. Realizing he ought to warn his pa about the type of women they were, Tom decided he would mention it when the two men were alone.

Toward noon, Tom refused Amanda’s offer of lunch and tea for the third time.

“What is it?” she finally asked. She’d removed her bonnet. Her mended kerchief held back some of her wavy black hair, but the rest tumbled over her shoulders. “If it’s about last evening, I’m sorry I pulled away from you…but you have…and I’m not interested…”

He grumbled. She wasn’t interested? Well, he wasn’t interested, either, to be hoodwinked and bamboozled by another conniving woman. Conniving, he repeated in his mind as he gazed into her fraudulent blue eyes. Cold, heartless, lying.

In the background, he heard Wolf bark, then Pa and Miss Clementine laugh. “For your information,” Tom said, “not that it’s any of your concern, Clarissa is not a big part of my life. And I’ve got a lot of work to do today.” He gave her a dismissive nod, hoping she’d walk away.

“Let me help—”

“No.” He straightened his shoulders and finally confronted her.

Her lips tightened. Her brows arched. “I knew it was a mistake to hire you.”

“How dare you say that.”

She placed her hands on her rounded hips and glared at him. “Then what is it? What am I supposed to think as you continue to play games and not accept my tea…and not accept my help…and not even look in my direction? Why are you so hostile? Because yesterday I didn’t accept your advances? Haven’t you ever been turned down before?”

Tom balked. “Is that what you think it’s about?”

“I know that a successful man like you, who has a booming business and the respect of the town, isn’t used to be given a no—”

“Stop before you regret it—”

“Why, every woman in town must be flattered beyond belief when you look in her direction—”

Tom cut her off with an iron grip on her arm, being careful not to hurt her. The heat of her flesh seeped into his fingers. Fury laced his words. “Would you like me more if you thought my life were difficult?”

Their eyes locked. She opened her mouth to answer.

“Well?” He tugged her closer, an inch away from his face.

Slowly she closed her lips and took a deep breath. His question left her speechless, and trembling.

He was shaking a bit himself. Releasing her, he stepped away.

With quivering lips, she hiked her skirts to leave.

Now that she’d opened up the discussion, he couldn’t stop himself from hurling a question at her stiffened back. “Why couldn’t people be more honest?”

She spun around. “Pardon?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were divorced, Amanda?”

Her gaze clouded. The question seemed to weigh on her, choking her. “Well…I…”

Maybe she did have a conscience, or was she just embarrassed she’d been caught in her own lie?

She stared at his rigid stance. “That’s why you’re upset.”

“Were you and your grandmother having a little chuckle at my expense?”

A flash of grief rippled across her face. “We weren’t laughing at you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“Because I…couldn’t.”

“The easily fooled jackass, Tom Murdock.”

Her eyes glistened in sympathy. She shook her head. “We weren’t laughing at you.”

“Turns out, I’ve got a few jokes of my own to tell. Like this property here, for instance. Zeb Finnigan took you to town. You paid five hundred, but I would have sold it to you for a whopping three.”

Another blow. She staggered. “What?”

He momentarily felt sorry for her. Was he being too hard on her? Was he taking out the rage he felt at Clarissa and Finnigan, at the only person here to take it?