The Mail Order Midwife's Secret (Wanted: Wives In The West 2) by Trinity Ford Page B

soft cheeks that he wished he could feel just one more time. He could still see the smudged stains where her tears fell—where she said her last goodbye and tried to put John at ease about his future without her. That was just like Rose , he thought. Always taking care of others instead of worrying about herself.
    John closed the drawer and cleared his throat in an effort to keep his own tears at bay. He turned and looked at the bed—at the side that was perfectly intact. That was where Rose once slept. He missed the way he sometimes heard her laughing in her sleep and he’d lie there staring at her, wondering what was so funny—or how he’d come to her rescue and wake her out of a scary dream if he heard her whimpering, trapped in a nightmare.
    Now, the nightmare was his, it was real, and there was no one to wake him out of it. The house felt so large now that it was only him living in it. He remembered thinking about how small it seemed when they had Grace and Anna, and were planning more children. They’d had a talk about where to add on to the house for a nursery, and how they’d need a bigger dining room and table for suppertime.
    It seemed so long ago.
    John made his way to the kitchen, stopping by Grace and Anna’s bedroom to glance inside. Daddy! They would squeal when they saw him wake up every morning. Come play with us! John would go into their room and scoop them up into his arms, putting each one of them on one of his shoulders as he carried them in to wake up Rose.
    Duck your heads , he’d warn as they went through the doorway, where he would toss them onto the bed in a fit of giggles as they crawled onto Rose, smothering her in kisses and snuggling up to her as she started her day.
    The room was empty now. Barren, after he’d given the belongings away to a needy family that was new in town. He didn’t need physical reminders—there would never be a time when he would forget them or their life together.
    Rose had urged him to move on and share his love with someone else if she didn’t survive. At first, he couldn’t come to terms with her saying that—with her truly wanting that. But over time, he understood that it was the last loving act she could give him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share his life with someone again, but his nights were spent maintaining law on a side of town where no reputable women lingered, and his days were spent sleeping to prepare for every night. This made it awfully hard to grant her wish for him.

Chapter Two
     
    Thirty year old Millie Wallace quietly walked out of the pregnant woman’s room, pulling the door to, but not shutting it. She was physically and mentally exhausted. Eighteen hours had passed since she’d arrived for the birth and if it hadn’t been for the woman’s sister, Abigail, switching off with her once in a while, she might have collapsed in a chair and missed the whole thing. “I’m just going to rest my eyes,” Millie said, passing her in the narrow hallway. “Holler at me if anything changes.” She carefully lowered her petite frame into the chair just outside the room and rested her head against the wall—her long, brown locks acting as a pillow for her.
    Midwifing was an escape for Millie—a way to break free from the clutches of her husband, Henry, who didn’t mind her being gone if it meant she’d be earning more money for him to gamble with later that night. At first, she was heartbroken helping deliver other women’s babies, after being told she was sterile. But now, she was grateful that God hadn’t sent her a child that Henry could beat and humiliate in his nightly drunken state.
    Millie relaxed and leaned her head back, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes, but was unable to fall asleep. Abigail had been knitting a beautiful blanket for her sister’s baby, and Millie picked it up to see how much progress had been made between shifts. A folded publication fell out of the knitting bag when she lifted it and