Chapter 6: Time
Michaela stared ahead at everything and nothing; without thought or breath passing through her. What if… such powerful, manipulative words. What if…They can wield a supremacy over your mind, until all sane thoughts have taken flight and you are left in a terrifying world that you, yourself have created; that only you, yourself are to blame for… What if…
"Michaela…" A distant voice called.
But Michaela was still in her fantasy of pain and possibilities, unable to break loose from their controlling chains. She was bound to that world, until finally the physical contact of a friend startled her from that frightful reverie.
"Michaela!" Charlotte spoke forcefully, while tenderly placing her hand on the young woman's shoulder.
"What!" Michaela jumped, speaking with a bit more edge to her voice than she had meant to. Seeing the look of slight shock which spread across Charlotte's face, Michaela let out a slow breath, attempting to calm the tormenting emotions which threatened to overwhelm her. "I'm sorry…what…what is it?"
Charlotte merely nodded her head towards Horace, who stood, hands trembling slightly, as they gripped a single piece of paper. "What…what is it Horace?" Michaela's voice shook violently, knowing what was to come, but pleading silently to God that her predictions could be wrong, just this once. Michaela, however, had always been known for her predictions and diagnostic talents…and this circumstance would be no different. "…Horace?"
Horace nodded awkwardly and looked down at the paper in his hands; physically weightless, yet emotionally profound. "I…I just received this list…I'm supposed to read it out loud for all to hear…"
"What's the list of?" Brian asked naively.
A few bystanders smiled sadly at the young child's innocence; but soon looks became grave again, as the small crowd's eyes met Horace's, who cowered slightly under their intense gazes. "It's…it is…it's a list of all the soldiers from the Colorado territory who…who…"
"Out with it!" Hank, who had just sauntered up to the crowd, exclaimed snidely.
Horace glared momentarily at Hank before looking back down at Michaela, who stood in front of him with pleading, knowledgeable eyes. Gulping down the lump which hung in his throat, Horace took the deep breath before the plunge. "It's a list of all the soldiers in the Colorado Territory, who were lost, wounded…or killed in battle."
A hush fell upon the crowd, as fear gripped at hearts and gnawed at souls. Michaela never broke eye contact with Horace, for fear that if she did, it would be the admittance of failure…something she could not bear, something she could not live with. Yet as she stared into those amber orbs, she saw a sadness that broke her heart. But there was more, those eyes held vagueness, a distance, something she could not quite pinpoint, something that was not directed towards her. Before Michaela could gaze more deeply into those eyes to make sense of it all, they darted away from her focus, towards the new arrival.
"Michaela, what in tarnation is going on? What's all the fuss about?" Dorothy said lightheartedly, not yet noticing the somber faces and tense atmosphere.
Michaela found that she was unable to speak, and she was forced to look towards Charlotte, silently begging for help.
"Dorothy…news from the last battle just came in…" Charlotte began.
"Oh, I heard a fellow say it was a Union victory…somewhere on the South Mountain in Maryland I heard…" Dorothy piped up, still not grasping the situation fully.
Charlotte nodded. "Yes, well…one of the commanding officers…was Chamberlain…"
Finally, at this moment, Dorothy's eyes grew wide with realization and worry. "Oh Michaela! Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry…do you know…?"
Michaela shook her head, still incapable of speech. Instead, Jake shouted from a near by table, "Well we were all about to find out until you came and interrupted!"
Dorothy's cheeks grew red from anger and humiliation. Michaela, who had had enough of Jake's recent uprisings, finally found her will to speak. "Be quiet Jake…Horace…please, what does it say?"
Horace looked briefly at Michaela before glancing across the rest of the crowd and finally nodding. "We regret to inform you of the following casualties as a result of battle: Sergeant C. F. Brown, died in battle; Fifth Sergeant James Castello, missing in action; Private John Curry, Died in battle; Private O. M. Harris, died in battle; Private J. Herbert, seriously injured…" Suddenly, Horace cut off, unable to go on. "…I…I…"
Jake, loosing patience stood and snapped the paper away from Horace to begin reading it aloud himself. "Lieutenant Thomas…" Jake's breath caught, and he looked up briefly before continuing in a much softer tone. "Lieutenant Thomas Jennings…died in battle…"
In the silence between the ill news and the shriek, all hearts stopped, all minds knew…
"NOOO!" Dorothy screamed. "NO! NOT MY BABY! NOT MY TOM!"
Michaela, pushing passed the lightheadedness she felt, turned to Dorothy, embracing her fully, soaking up her friends tears, which soon mingled with her own.
"No, no, no, no! It can't be! Oh Michaela, tell me it isn't true! No, not my Tom…not my dear boy!" Dorothy sobbed as she began to sink, her knees failing her.
Feeling Dorothy's weight lean more heavily on herself, Michaela found her own knees buckling and looked towards the surrounding men for help. "Hank! Help me, she's fainting!" Hank quickly stepped up and took Dorothy's limp body into his arms.
"Bring her to my clinic, and lay her down in one of the recovery rooms upstairs…"
"Ain't ya coming?" Hank asked, suspicious of Michaela's lack of reference to her own presence.
Michaela nodded. "I'll be along shortly, thank you Hank…"
Hank nodded, realizing that there may be more to the day's news. Grateful for his cooperation, Michaela turned back towards Jake, who had since continued to read off names of soldiers, none of which anyone knew. Luckily…
"…Sergeant George T. L. Robison, died in battle; Private James Ryan, seriously injured; Corporal J. R. Searcy, died in battle; Lieutenant Davis Tucker, Lost in battle…"
The rest was lost to Michaela. His name wasn't called. He was alive, he was well! Her Sully was not lost to her yet!
And then reality hit her. It was merely the first battle, yet it had already caused so much pain…and there would be no denying that the pain would only grow. In this war of fear and torment, the pain would never ebb.
Turning from the crowd, Michaela slowly made her way back to the clinic. Her mind was dazed, her heart heavy, and her soul was unable to take wing. Placing a loving hand over her abdomen, Michaela sighed softly, knowing that now was not the time to dwell on worries. Not when a friend was in need, a friend who had lost so much, while she had lost nothing except some of the hope she once had so much of. No, now was not the time…
December 15th, 1862
Michaela sat at her desk, pouring over various patient charts, trying to keep her mind off of the many tribulations. It had been almost two months now since the news of Tom's death had been announced, and things had only gone from bad to worse. Upon hearing the news of Tom's death, Marcus had left town without any word of his whereabouts or if he would ever return. Thus, Dorothy was left penniless, alone, and in a severe state of depression. As hard as Michaela tried, Dorothy refused to communicate with her or anyone else; instead, she lay in the recovery room, day in and day out, barely eating, never seeing the light of day.
With each passing day, Michaela's fear for her friend mounted as did her fear for Sully's well being. She had received only a few letters from Sully, and with each one, the writing became shorter and less heart felt. Her heart sank with each sentence, as Michaela watched the war deteriorate his mind and will to keep going. Yet he always ended each letter with his promise, so that she would never doubt it. But as the days progressed and fear grew, her hope depreciated, and it would only be a matter of time before it would run thin.
Tears welled in her eyes as they had so often recently, causing her vision to blur and humiliation for visual emotion to overwhelm her. Throwing down the wooden pencil, Michaela sank back into the chair, shaking her head with misery and sorrow. "I have no reason to feel so pitiful…I haven't lost him yet…he'll come back…he'll come back, I know he will! He promised…"
A sudden knock at the door shook Michaela from her daze. Clearing her throat, Michaela quickly wiped her face off with her apron, trying to regain at least some of her composure. "Yes, come in!"
The door swung open to reveal an elderly gentleman, wearing a traveling suit and gray bowler hat. "Good afternoon, Dr. Quinn…"
Michaela gasped, abhorred by her forgetfulness. "Dr. Bernard...oh I'm so sorry I didn't meet you at the station, I didn't realize…"
"No need for an apology…it's normal during the months of pregnancy to forget a thing or two, especially with everything you have on your plate. Have you been resting?" Dr. Bernard questioned as he walked into the clinic, shutting the door behind him.
"As…as much as I can." Michaela answered truthfully. As hard as she tried though, the sleep never seemed to come. Many a night, Michaela would find herself having to walk around the perimeter of the homestead, attempting to will herself into a dreamless sleep. But no such sleep was ever granted to her, for it was but a wish and dream, and it had been many months since any of Michaela's dreams had come true.
"Good, good...just keep resting as much as possible…take naps during the day…" Dr. Bernard carried on as he set out the supplies for the examination, while Michaela readied herself behind the screen.
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"Dr. Bernard…please is something wrong with the baby? Please I have to know!" Michaela pleaded as she sat upon her own examination table.
Dr. Bernard merely shook his head as he continued to pack up his supplies. "There's nothing wrong, you all seem in perfect health…"
"Then why are you acting…wait…" Michaela paused, clearly taking in each of the doctor's words carefully and precisely. "…what do you mean…all…"
Dr. Bernard placed his medical bag on the desk and rotated to face the endearing mother-to-be. "What do you think I meant, Dr. Quinn?"
For the first time in weeks, a smile played with Michaela's lips as the possibility lifted her spirit to new heights. "You mean…there's more than one?"
Dr. Bernard smiled broadly, and nodded. "Yes, you seem to be expecting twins."
Michaela's face lit up as it hadn't in so long, and a rush of happiness flowed through her body, empowering her hope and will. "Oh, Dr. Bernard…thank you so much!"
"Now you know the risks are greater, Dr. Quinn with multiple children, you must rest! I must impress the importance to you, for both the children and your own safety."
Michaela nodded, knowingly. "Yes Dr. Bernard, I …"
But she was cut off by the spontaneous swinging open of the clinic door. "Horace!" Michaela exclaimed as Horace came barreling through the door, trying to catch his breath. "What're wrong?" Michaela slid from the examination table.
"I…I…" Horace attempted to speak awhile heaving in and out in deep, heavy breaths.
"Relax Horace, now tell me what is wrong?" Michaela pushed again, glancing over at Dr. Bernard, who stood at the edge of the room, watching the entire scenario unfold.
"He…here…this just…came for ya…" Horace stuttered as he handed Michaela a slightly crumpled piece of paper.
After a quick glance at Horace's fearful face, Michaela gazed down at the slip held gently by her finger tips, slowly reading the message…
Dear Mrs. Sully. We regret to inform you that your husband, Lieutenant Byron Sully, has been shot in action…
Failing to read the rest of the message, Michaela felt her knees buckle as she watched the small bit of paper float from her hands to the ground.
He was shot…no, not my Sully…no… "NO!" Michaela cried out before everything went black.
Oh my goodness...ok...please leave reviews...yep...it's getting interesting huh!
Penny