The Midwife's Little Miracle by Fiona McArthur Page A

Montana put her hand on his arm until he turned towards her.
    She weighed her words as if she had just realised a sudden truth. ‘It puts living life to the full into perspective, doesn’t it?’
    There was a pause and then Andy said, ‘For me it does.’
    He looked at Montana soberly and they both pondered his heartfelt response.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    L ATER that evening, Andy found Montana out on the veranda leaning against the rail.
    Dark clouds obscured the moon and lightning reflected off the lake. A cool breeze brushed the wisps of dark hair back off her face.
    ‘Melancholy miss,’ he said, and came to stand beside her.
    She looked across at him. ‘That’s a good description of how I’m feeling.’ She bit her lip. ‘I can’t help thinking about Emma and what she has to go through with her mother, let alone the possibilities to herself.’
    He slipped his arm around her shoulders and she could feel the comfort of his caring seep into her like a warm blanket of peace. She just hoped some comfort was going his way too because a lot of what she was feeling was because Andy was hurting so badly.
    Then he said, ‘Life can be hard but we can only deal with what we are given. The amazing strengthI see in patients and their families during hard times is why I love doing what I do.’
    He squeezed her shoulder and dropped his voice and she could hear his sincerity. ‘It makes me humble.’
    She rubbed the strong fingers that lay across her collarbone. To hear him talk about being humble made her want to throw her arms around him and pull his head down on her chest. His personal pain for Clare and Emma and all their family made her own heart ache.
    He would have known them since he’d come here and had only recently helped Emma’s family come to terms with Emma’s pregnancy crisis. Now another more deadly and terrible crisis was affecting them.
    But he was right and the world suddenly seemed a little less incomprehensible.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘You put that beautifully, Andy. I do understand. I’ve had patients who have awed me with their tenacity during a really hard labour and you feel so proud to have had a small part in their journey.’
    He squeezed her shoulders one more time and then dropped his arm to lean on the rail beside her and gaze out over the lake. ‘Who knows? You and I might have swapped a few more years with our loved ones for the risk of deterioration later in life—or maybe not. No one can tell how we’d react.’
    She tried to recall the way Douglas had looked when one of his patients had had to endure hardship, but she couldn’t. It hadn’t been a big part of his make-up but that was no excuse for not to be able to remember. All she could see was Andy, hurting for Emma’s family, and how much she wanted to comfort him.
    She tried harder to picture her late husband’s face but nothing came. ‘I’m having trouble remembering Douglas’s face.’ The thought horrified her.
    Andy looked down at her and brushed her cheek with his finger. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. It’s tough when that starts to happen. I watched a movie once when someone said it helps if you remember a special moment in time rather than just their face. That works for me when I want to remember my wife.’
    ‘Thank you. I’ll try that.’ It was odd how she could talk about Douglas with Andy but strangely didn’t feel as comfortable for him to talk about his wife. In fact she’d rather he didn’t and she didn’t know why.
    In April, Montana started work as the new deputy nurse manager at the hospital. Her tenure was made up of two short administrative days per week to organise the new caseload midwifery unit and two eight-hour clinical days as the registered nurse on duty for the hospital.
    On her first morning as a nurse she worked withChrissie, who welcomed her with no small degree of excitement and lots of practical help.
    Chrissie was superwoman as far as Montana was concerned.
    ‘So you work