Mrs. Lowell nodded. “I didn’t know that Katie had survived until weeks later. When your life was no longer threatened and you were on your way to recovery, I went home so exhausted that I slept for days. The weather was foul and it was after Christmas before I saw Jane and found the baby was alive and doing well. Jane called her Katie and later had a church baptism here in Great Dauntrey, naming the baby Catherine Potter and listing herself as the mother.”

Kendra bit her lip. “You made no attempt to find me?”

Mrs. Lowell’s eyes narrowed. “You and your husband were long gone, and I didn’t know how to find you. Nor did I want to! You had your sweet little boy to love, and your husband was never going to value a daughter. He didn’t deserve her! Jane did.”

Kendra’s eyes closed and she whispered, “My head understands that, but my heart cries for my lost child.”

“Your coming is timely. Perhaps divine intervention,” Mrs. Lowell said, her expression stark. “Jane is dying, so Katie may need another mother.”

“Consumption?” Lucas asked.

Mrs. Lowell stared at him. “How did you know?”

“I recognized the symptoms. It looks as if your sister’s case is very advanced.”

The midwife sighed. “You’re right. Jane’s husband died of consumption. I thought Jane might not be affected, but then she began to develop the symptoms.”

“What about Caitlin? Katie?” Kendra asked.

“I think she has also been affected,” Mrs. Lowell said with deep regret. “After Jane’s husband died, she was left penniless, and I fixed up this little cottage for her. I wanted Katie to live with me so she’d be less likely to contract the disease, but she refused to leave her mother.” She glanced at Kendra and changed her words to, “To leave Jane.”

Kendra turned an intense gaze on Lucas. “Suzanne said that sometimes you perform miracles, and that you saved Simon’s life. Can you do anything for Jane?”

Mrs. Lowell’s brows furrowed. “Miracles? I’ve seen some recoveries that seemed miraculous, but never from consumption.”

Lucas said reluctantly, “I’ve spent years working as a bonesetter. Sometimes, not often, I’ve also been able to heal with prayer and the laying on of hands. But it’s a very uncertain ability.” He’d tried to save Frère Emmanuel and failed, and that failure haunted him. He’d failed other times, also. Too often. “There are no guarantees.”

“I have had some similar experiences,” Mrs. Lowell said, her brow furrowed. “When I’m worried about a mother or infant, I’ll hold them and pray and whisper words of hope and comfort. I believe that sometimes that healing touch has made the difference. If you have that gift, surely it’s worth trying with Jane! It doesn’t hurt to make the attempt.”