"Hank!" Emma Jane gasped, "Hank, wake up!"
"Mmmm…" Hank mumbled in response.
"Hank!" she leaned over and shook him, "Wake up!"
"What the hell…" he declared, rousing himself and looking at her, "Emma Jane, what the hell…"
"Look!" she pointed at the door to the room and the smoke that was continuing to flow under it..
"Hell!" Hank scrambled over her off the bed and started grabbing his clothes, "Git dressed, quick!"
Emma Jane pulled herself off of the bed into a standing position, despite the fact she could barely keep her balance. Pain shot through her again as she reached for her underwear.
"Never mind that!" Hank said, throwing her dress at her, "Just put it on! C'mon, hurry up!"
Emma Jane pulled the dress on over her heavy legs and up over her swollen body. With clumsy fingers she buttoned it awkwardly and then stumbled forward to lift Victoria from her bed.
Hank threw open the door to the hallway and was immediately greeted by thicker smoke. Coughing, he peered out into the landing. The door to Peter and Kevin's room opened and the boys stumbled out.
"Fire!" Peter yelled, "Fire!"
"Git out!" Hank yelled to them, as they started to hurry down the dark stairs, yelling for Mrs Kimble as they did so. He turned back to where Emma Jane was holding Victoria to her, "C'mon, we gotta go!"
Nodding, she followed him out of the room onto the landing and immediately could see nothing for the acrid smoke that filled her eyes and lungs, causing her to cough violently, "Hank!" She groped in front of her, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. Hank held onto her arm with one hand and pulled her along behind him as they made their way to the stairs.
"Peter and Kevin…" she said as they passed the boys' room, "We have to make sure they're safe…"
"They're already out," Hank replied, "Stay close." He started down the stairs, Emma Jane following behind and they met Mrs Kimble at the bottom.
"It's the kitchen!" she gasped, "Fire's in the kitchen! I don't know how it happened, but the kitchen…"
"Ain't got no time to do nothin'" Hank told her, pushing her in front of him, "Gotta get out 'fore we all choke to death."
Emma Jane was fighting hard to breathe against the thick smoke. Her eyes were streaming and every laboured breath brought renewed pain to her body. As they began to make their way along the corridor to the door, the strongest pain yet seared through her abdomen and she cried out.
Hank turned around quickly, "Ya a'right? Ya bump somethin'?"
"No…" she gasped, shaking her head as a hot, wet sensation flowed down her thighs, "Oh God, oh God, Hank, the baby…"
"What?" he looked at her as if she was crazy.
"The baby," she repeated, "I think…ah…" she bent forward, pitching Victoria into her father's arms, and clutched her stomach, "I think…I think the baby's coming!"
"Now!" he exclaimed in disbelief, "Emma Jane ya can't…"
She screamed as another wave of pain hit her and she fell forward onto the floor, "No…" she gasped, "No this isn't right…it's too early…"
"Emma…" Hank crouched down beside her, "Emma ya gotta hold on, ya hear me? Ya can't have the baby here…ya gotta wait til we git out."
Emma Jane whimpered in pain, "I can't…I can't…"
"Emma Jane, ya got to!" Hank pulled her face up to his and saw the fear in her eyes, "Listen to me. Ya gotta keep goin'. We're almost there, see? There's the door!" he pointed ahead of them to the opening where Mrs Kimble was just stumbling out.
"Take Victoria…" Emma Jane gasped, "take her, go on."
"Ain't leavin' ya here!"
"Get her out!" she insisted, "please, get her to safety. Go!" she physically pushed him away from her and moaned again as more pain hit her.
Hank paused for a fraction of a second and then darted for the door carrying Victoria, who was now screaming too. Once outside, he thrust her into Mrs Kimble's arms and was about to run back in when an almighty crash signalled that the roof above the kitchen had caved in.
"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Kimble screamed, crushing Victoria to her so that she wouldn't see the flames.
"Git back!" Hank yelled at everyone who was standing looking dumbly at the house, "Git back, quickly!"
They all stepped back hurriedly as thick smoke began to pour out of the roof.
"Ya can't go back in!" Kevin shouted, rushing up beside Hank.
"Gotta get Emma Jane!" Hank responded, knowing he would be damned if he was going to leave her to die. He ran back to the door and back inside to where Emma Jane was hunched on the floor, breathing heavily against the pain and smoke. "Emma….Emma just hold on, ok? Gonna git ya out of here. Can ya stand?"
"I think…" she grabbed onto him for support and he helped her up, "I…ah…" she bent forward again, the whole word seemingly going black around her. "Leave me…" she mumbled, "leave me…"
"Like Hell!" Hank responded viciously, "Didn't come all this way to lose ya now!" Without pausing for thought, he put his arm under her legs and lifted her up into his arms. He ran back to the door and outside, just as the roof above him began to creak under the flames.
"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Kimble rushed up, "Oh Emma Jane! Is she a'right?"
"Don't know," Hank replied, putting her down gently on the ground, "Think the baby's comin'."
"But she's not due yet!"
"I know!" he replied, "Emma…Emma, can ya hear me?"
Emma Jane's eyelids were fluttering and a low moan escaped from her throat. She couldn't find the strength to open her eyes, her whole body ached and felt as though it was on fire.
"Gotta git her somewhere…" Hank was saying.
"Oh Lord," Mrs Kimble's voice was shocked, "That ain't birth fluid, that's blood!"
Hank looked down and saw to his horror that it was indeed blood that was flowing down Emma Jane's legs. He only remembered one other time he had seen such a thing and that had been when she had lost the baby over ten years earlier. "Is she losin' it?" he asked Mrs Kimble fearfully.
The other woman shook her head, "Don't know."
"Gotta git her somewhere," he repeated, glancing around as if for inspiration, "Her folks! Peter!" he yelled to the younger boy.
"What is it?" he asked, running up, "Is Miss Emma Jane a'right?"
"Go git a carriage. Tell it to hurry up. Quick!" Hank yelled at him. As Peter ran off up the street, he hugged his wife close to him, "Yer gonna be ok, Emma, yer gonna be ok." As he spoke, there was another almighty crash and the entire roof of the building caved in.
"My house!" Mrs Kimble wailed. "Oh my Lord…"
Hank followed her gaze, unable to believe they had all made it out alive. After what seemed like forever, Peter reappeared, followed by a carriage. When the driver pulled up, he looked at the building and gasped. Then he looked at the small group with suspicion, "Ain't takin' ya all."
"Just us," Hank said, "Here…" he handed Emma Jane to Kevin, jumped up into the carriage and then took her back. Mrs Kimble then handed Victoria up to him. Hank gave the driver the address of Emma Jane's parents' house and the carriage sped off, leaving the others staring after it. As the streets flashed by, Hank held Emma Jane on his lap, gently stroking her fevered face, "C'mon Emma, hang on."
When they reached the house, the driver jumped down and ran around to the side of the carriage, "Can I help?"
"Take her," Hank replied, gently handing Emma Jane out of the carriage.
"I…"
"Take her!" he repeated violently, causing Victoria to start screaming again. He lifted his daughter out and then jumped out behind her, taking Emma Jane from the driver, "Bring Victoria!" he instructed as he hurried up the steps to the front door and rang the bell loudly. "C'mon, c'mon," he said before starting to bang on it, "Open up!"
After a moment, the door swung open and Mr Brown appeared, "What on earth…"
"Emma Jane's sick," Hank interrupted, "Ya gotta let me in." He pushed past his father-in-law into the house.
"What's happened?" Mr Brown demanded, taking his granddaughter from the bemused driver, "What's wrong?"
"There was a fire at the boardin' house," Hank explained, "Emma Jane…I think she's losin' the baby, ya gotta get a doctor." He looked down at the blood that was dripping onto the wooden floor and then helplessly at Mr Brown.
"Hank?" Thomas appeared on the stairs, "What…oh my God, Emma…" he rushed forward, "What's wrong with her?"
"She's bleedin', Thomas. Please," Hank begged, " ya gotta get the doctor."
"Bring her up to her room," Thomas replied, "Helen!" he shouted to the maid who had just appeared, "Get Doctor O'Neil, quickly! This way!" he led the way up the stairs, Hank following in close pursuit. They dashed along the corridor and he threw open the door to Emma Jane's room.
Hank rushed in and put her gently down on the bed, "Emma Jane…" he pushed her hair away from her damp forehead, "She's got a fever."
"Oh my God," Thomas caught sight of the blood, "Oh, Emma…"
"What on earth is happening here?" Mrs Brown appeared at the door, "What have you done to my daughter?" she asked Hank angrily.
"Ain't done nothin'," he replied, "somethin's wrong with her. Think she might be losin' the baby. Emma, can ya hear me," he crouched down next to her, "Emma, look at me."
Emma Jane forced her eyes open, but her vision was blurry and she could barely see, "Hank…?"
"I'm here, darlin', I'm here," he replied, "Yer a'right, yer gonna be a'right." He looked anxiously at Thomas, "Where's the doctor?"
"He's coming," Thomas replied, "it won't be long."
"Thomas, out," Mrs Brown declared, "this is no place for you."
"Mother…"
"Out, now. Tell Cook to get water and towels for the doctor." Reluctantly Thomas rose, "I'd ask you to leave also Mr Lawson if I thought for one moment you would heed my request."
Hank looked at her, "Ain't goin' nowhere."
"Yes, I can see that." Mrs Brown came over to the bed and put her hand against her daughter's forehead, "She's burning up."
"Mother…" Emma Jane said weakly.
"Hush," her mother replied, "save your strength. You're going to need it."
A few moments later, Doctor O'Neil arrived, looking rather dishevelled and sleepy. "What do we have here?" he said as he came in and shrugged off his jacket.
"She's got a fever and she's bleedin'," Hank said worriedly, "she gonna be a'right?"
Doctor O'Neil pressed his hand against Emma Jane's forehead and throat and then her stomach, a movement which caused her to cry out. Then he lifted her skirts and looked at her abdomen. "She's in labour," he declared.
"But…but it's too early," Hank replied, "She can't have the baby now, can she?"
"The chances of the baby surviving at this early stage are slim," Doctor McNeil replied, "Usually I would say that a young, healthy woman like Emma Jane would stand a fighting chance of delivering successfully, but with the complications…"
"What complications?" Hank asked, panicked.
The doctor looked at him seriously, "She has influenza."
"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Brown exclaimed, "Oh no!"
"Mrs Brown, have your family had the illness?"
"Yes. There was an outbreak a few years ago, but…" She remembered Lydia's death, "Emma Jane wasn't here." She looked at Hank, "Has she had it in that Godforsaken place?" Hank shook his head. There had been an outbreak in the town, but Emma Jane had already gone.
"Have you had it?" Doctor O'Neil asked him. Hank nodded, "What about your child?"
"No," he looked at Mrs Brown, "Victoria ain't had it."
"I'll see to her," Mrs Brown left the room as Helen appeared with a bowl of water and some towels.
"What about the people at the boardin' house?" Hank asked.
"I'll have Thomas send Helen," Doctor O'Neil replied, "if they've been exposed they'll need treatment. We don't want an epidemic on our hands." He gently sponged down Emma Jane's face and neck and then handed the cloth to Hank, "I need you to keep doing this. We have to try and get her fever down."
"What about the baby?"
"She's having contractions, which indicate that the baby is coming, but she's also haemorrhaging quite badly," he replied, "and…" he was cut off by Emma Jane letting out another cry of pain and writhing on the bed, "All right, Emma Jane, all right. The baby's big for its age," he continued, listening to her stomach with his stethoscope, "it might have a chance."
"Hank…" Emma Jane gasped again, "Hank…"
"I'm here," he told her, gently wiping away the sweat on her face, "Ain't gonna leave ya. Ain't never gonna leave ya again."
SSSS
The time seemed to drag on with endless bouts of Emma Jane screaming in pain and Hank trying desperately to keep her fever down. Every time he pressed the cold cloth to her face, however, the fever came back with a vengeance. The sweat was pouring off her body and her dress was pulled down almost to the top of her chest.
"Can't we take it off?" Hank had asked, but Mrs Brown had stepped in.
"Absolutely not!" she had declared, "it's not decent!"
"She's havin' a baby!" Hank had shouted at her, "Ain't like anybody's gonna see her!"
"Yes well, I'm sure over the years you've made sure that Emma Jane has lost all sense of what is right and decent!"
"Please, please!" Doctor O'Neil had said, "This is not helping anyone, least of all Emma Jane."
If he could have, Hank would have ripped her dress off right then and there. Anything, if it could have helped her. "How much longer?" he asked.
Doctor O'Neil looked up from where he had been examining Emma Jane's abdomen again, "It shouldn't be much longer," he said, "She's close."
"Mr Lawson, I think it's time you left," Mrs Brown said curtly from where she had been hovering in the corner.
"What?"
"You should wait downstairs."
Hank looked at the doctor, "Ain't gonna leave her."
Doctor O'Neil put his hand on Hank's shoulder, "Husbands don't usually witness the birth of their children."
"Can't leave her…" he protested, "Can't leave her by herself."
"I'll be here," Mrs Brown said, "I'll look after her."
"Ya don't give a damn about her!" Hank spat, "Ya cast her out like she was dead to ya!"
"Mr Lawson…"
"Only person cared about her these last few years is me! Ya ain't done nothin' fer her!"
"By God, she is still my daughter," Mrs Brown replied, "My only daughter. I've already lost one and I'm not about to stand back and lose another!" Hank was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
Doctor O'Neil smiled gently, "Mr Lawson, it really would be in Emma Jane's best interest if you were to wait downstairs. I promise you'll be informed the moment anything happens."
Hank was unconvinced, but he kissed Emma Jane quickly on the cheek and then rose from where he had been sitting and headed for the door. Glancing back, he watched as Mrs Brown took his place and continued sponging down her daughter's face and neck. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Downstairs, Mr Brown and Thomas was hovering in the parlour and they looked up quickly as Hank approached.
"Is she all right?" Thomas asked fearfully.
Hank shook his head, "Don't know. Doc says she's close to her time, but the influenza's makin' it harder." He accepted the glass of whiskey Mr Brown held out to him.
"She's a fighter," Mr Brown said, "if anyone can get through this, Emma Jane can."
Thomas looked wistfully into his own glass, "It was influenza that killed Lydia."
SSSS
Two hours later, as dawn began to break over the city, Emma Jane was still struggling in labour. With Victoria, it had seemed so easy. A few short hours and Charlotte's gentle words, and she had been a mother. This time, however, it felt as though her baby was tearing at her very insides. Her vision was blurred by the heat from her fever and she could barely speak, her throat was so dry.
"Have some water," Mrs Brown lifted her daughter's head and held up a glass for her to drink from, "that's it." Emma Jane slumped back down in the bed, "You're doing very well, darling."
"Mother…" Emma Jane gasped, gripping onto her mother's hand as another contraction took hold, "Mother…I…I can't…"
"Yes you can, Emma Jane," Mrs Brown urged her, "Yes you can, come on."
"Emma Jane, I need you to push," Doctor O'Neil said from his position between her legs.
Through the mist of fever and fog, Emma Jane felt an immense pressure in her abdomen and she pushed down as hard as her body would let her, "I…can't!"
"Yes, yes you can," Mrs Brown repeated, "Come on, Emma Jane, push!"
"No…" she started to sob, "I can't! Mother…Mother…I don't want to die. Please, I don't want to die…"
"You're not going to die, Emma Jane, you're not going to die."
"Push, Emma Jane, come on," Doctor O'Neil said.
Emma Jane bore down as hard as she could, remembering that this was nothing like what had happened when she had given birth to Victoria, "Victoria…"
"She's fine," Mrs Brown said, " She's absolutely fine. You have to think about this baby, Emma Jane."
Emma Jane screamed again as the pain continued to shoot through her, "Please…please…"
"That's it, Emma Jane, that's it," Doctor O'Neil said, "you're almost there, come on. One more push!" She pushed down hard again and felt a slippery sensation as her baby came sliding out. "There we go, there we go!"
The baby let out a pathetic cry and then was silent.
"It's a boy, Emma Jane," Doctor O'Neil said, "You've had a boy."
Emma Jane couldn't speak, she was so exhausted. Mrs Brown gently sponged her face again, "Well done, darling, well done." She glanced over at the doctor, "Is he all right?"
Doctor O'Neil was busy wiping blood from the baby, "He's weak," he replied grimly, "but he's alive."
"The…baby…" Emma Jane gasped.
"He's alive, Emma Jane," her mother said, "he's alive."
"A…a boy…" Mrs Brown nodded, "Hank…"
"I'll tell him," Mrs Brown promised, glancing over at the doctor again who was busy examining Emma Jane's abdomen, "Is she all right?"
He looked grim, "Well she's not bleeding any more." He washed his hands quickly and put his hand back on her forehead, "but her fever's still very high." He paused, "I just need to deliver the afterbirth but…I think you should fetch her husband immediately."
Mrs Brown understood his meaning and, prising her hand from her daughter's grip, she left the room and made her way downstairs to where the men were waiting.
Hank, who had been pacing downstairs, looked up sharply at the sound of her footsteps and rushed over to her."
"You have a son, Mr Lawson," Mrs Brown said.
Hank let out a shaky breath as Thomas clapped him on the shoulder, "Emma Jane…?"
Mrs Brown looked grave, "You should come upstairs."
"What's wrong?" he picked up on her uncertainty.
"Come upstairs," Mrs Brown repeated.
Hank followed her upstairs, his heart pounding with every step. When he entered the bedroom, he saw Doctor O'Neil holding a small bundle, but his attention was taken by the sight of Emma Jane still lying on the bed, her body still racked with fever. He hurried over to her, "Emma…" he crouched down beside her and took her hand.
She looked at him through wet eyes, "Hank…the baby…it's a boy…"
"I know," he replied, "Ya did real well."
"Mr Lawson, would you like to hold your son?" Doctor O'Neil asked.
Hank nodded and went over to take the small bundle from the doctor, "He's real small," he commented, looking down at the pale little face.
"He's very premature," Doctor O'Neil said, "and weak," he looked at Hank, "the next few hours will be crucial. I'm afraid we need to keep him away from Emma Jane. Mrs Brown…? Mrs Brown came forward and took the baby from Hank. "If you put him in one of the other rooms, I'll come through and check on him." Mrs Brown nodded and left the room with the baby. Doctor O'Neil turned back to Hank, "Mr Lawson…"
"She's gonna be ok, right Doc?" Hank asked, glancing back at the bed, "I mean, she's gonna pull through this."
Doctor O'Neil licked his lips and took a deep breath, "Mr Lawson…your wife is very weak. The birth took a tremendous amount out of her and her condition has been made worse by the influenza. Right now, her body is trying to adjust to having given birth, but the fever is hindering that adjustment. She also lost a lot of blood in the delivery."
"But, she's gonna be ok, though, right? I mean, ya can cure her." Hank searched his face desperately.
"I can give you no guarantees, Mr Lawson," Doctor O'Neil said, "as I said, she and your son are both very weak." He paused, "It may be prudent for you to prepare yourself for the worst."
"Ya sayin'…I'm gonna lose her?" Hank's voice shook slightly.
"I'm afraid there is every possibility that we could lose both of them."
Hank stared at him, almost uncomprehendingly, not wanting to admit to any possibility of losing Emma Jane, or the child.
"Hank…?" her weak voice floated towards him from the bed, "Hank…?"
He rushed over to her side, "I'm here, Emma, I'm here."
"Hank…" she looked up at him through fevered eyes, her hair sticking to her neck with the sweat of the fever. She held out her hand and he took it in his, wincing at the heat that flowed from it. "I…I need you to promise me something."
"Anythin'."
"I know…I know I'm dying…I can feel it…"
"No ya ain't!" he refuted her strongly, "Ya ain't dying, Emma Jane, don't talk like that!"
She blinked slowly, "Hank…" it broke her heart to say it, "if I don't make it…"
"Yer gonna be fine!"
"Please…" she begged breathlessly, "please…if I don't make it, promise me that you'll look after Victoria…and the baby…both of them…they'll need you."
Hank set his jaw, determined, he wasn't going to cry, "Ain't gonna promise that cause it ain't gonna happen."
"Please," she repeated, "I can't…without knowing that you will…please, promise me."
Hank looked down at her flushed face, her eyes full of tears, her body breathing with great effort. He couldn't lose her, not now, not after everything. Yet he couldn't deny her request.
"I promise, Emma…" he said, kissing her hand, "I promise."
She smiled with a sense of relief, "Thank you…thank you…" she closed her eyes again.
"I love ya Emma," Hank said, his voice breaking with emotion, "Please, please don't leave me, not now, please." He bent and kissed her burning forehead, "Please…" he whispered, turning his eyes to the ceiling, searching for a God he wasn't even sure he believed existed, "Please, please don't take her."
Doctor O'Neil closed the bedroom door behind him as he left to go and check on the baby. It was always tragic when a woman died in childbirth. Always tragic.
Next chapter coming soon!
