Well, we're in a bit of Dr Mike's Dream territory here, but I hope no-one minds! I couldn't resist! Please keep reading and reviewing, I take note of and appreciate all your comments. And feel free to criticise too!
Emma Jane felt as though she was being pulled upwards, out of her bed and into the sky. The feeling started in her chest, a dragging sensation that seemed to pull against the natural resistance of her body and then spread to her arms, legs and head until eventually, she felt a rush of air and entered into a bright light. For a moment, she floated, not sure where she was or what was happening. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. As she floated, she felt incredibly calm and peaceful and, whats more, not ill at all. She was just getting used to the sensation when she felt a sudden jolt and she landed in a heap on the ground.
Wincing, she pulled herself into a sitting position and rubbed her neck. Then, she pulled herself to her feet and froze in horror. She was standing in her own bedroom, looking at her bed, looking at herself. There she was, lying, breathing laboriously; sweat pouring off of her body. Hank was by her side, gently wiping her face down, whispering words she couldn't understand.
"Hank…?" she spoke his name, but he gave no sign that he had heard her, "Hank, it's me," she said again, but there was still no answer.
"You always have to copy me, don't you Emma Jane?" a familiar voice from behind, caused her to start and turn around quickly, "First you get married like me, then you have children like me, now you're dying like me. And of the same disease too."
Emma Jane's heart was pounding as a figure emerged from the shadows in front of her. It was a face she had never expected to see again, a person whose grave she had stood at two long years earlier.
"Lydia?" she gasped in disbelief.
Her sister stepped forward and looked at her reproachfully, "Who else?"
"But…but you're…" Emma Jane couldn't find the right words.
"Yes, Emma Jane, I'm dead," Lydia replied acerbically, "though it pains me to be reminded." She glanced over at the figure of her sister in the bed, "You don't look so good, do you?"
Emma Jane followed her gaze, "Am I…?"
"No, you're not dead. Not yet anyway," Lydia replied, "but, you're sick. Very sick." She looked at Hank, "I suppose he loves you. He looks as though he does."
Emma Jane watched as Hank kissed her hand again, tears visible on his cheeks, "Hank…" she whispered.
"Oh he can't hear you," Lydia replied, "It's quite fun actually. I often visit Arthur and wave my hands in front of his face and shout in his ear and he never even stirs," she laughed, "death does have its advantages."
Emma Jane swallowed hard, "I don't want to die."
"Neither did I," Lydia replied, "neither do most people. But sometimes, we don't get a choice." She looked at her sister thoughtfully, "but you're not happy. Maybe death would be a blessing for you."
"Lydia, that's a terrible thing to say," another familiar voice came out of the shadows, "Don't listen to her, Emma Jane."
Emma Jane was too busy trying to stop herself from fainting as an old friend appeared in front of her, "Abigail?"
Abigail smiled. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"I…I don't know what to say. I've missed you so much over the years," Emma Jane confessed, "I always hated myself for not being with you when you died."
"Huh!" Lydia moaned, "You didn't say that to me. I'm so sorry my funeral prevented you from being there."
"I didn't mean that," Emma Jane replied quickly, "I just meant…" she sighed as she looked at Abigail, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," Abigail replied, "I'm not. I wouldn't have liked you to witness it." She gestured behind her and a little girl came toddling out towards them, "This is Hannah," she said, picking her up.
"She looks just like you," Emma Jane remarked. "Sully misses you terribly."
Abigail smiled, "I know, but he seems to have found a friend, a good friend, in Doctor Quinn." Emma Jane was reluctant to say that it might be more than that. "I know that he and Pa haven't been on the best of terms with each other, or with you."
Emma Jane sighed, "Your father blames me and Sully for what happened to you. Although I think I may have mended a few bridges with Loren."
"This is all very moving," Lydia piped up from behind, "but there are more pressing matters at hand."
Emma Jane turned back around to look at her sister, "Such as?"
Lydia gestured to where Emma Jane was lying, "Such as the fact you're dying in front of us?" She sighed, "Honestly, your head always was somewhere else."
"A lot of things have happened to me over the last few years, Lydia," Emma Jane shot back, "Not all of them good."
"I know," her sister replied, "We know what happened to you."
"You do?"
Lydia nodded, "It was terrible, and I'm sorry. No matter how much of a heathen you've become, you didn't deserve that."
Emma Jane looked at her sister in disbelief. It was the most emotion Lydia had ever shown towards her. Then a thought struck her, "Do you know who fathered my baby?"
"Well…" Lydia began.
"Lydia." Abigail said warningly, "You know the rules."
"Rules? What rules?" Emma Jane demanded.
"We can't tell you things about the future," Abigail said gently. "Otherwise you wouldn't choose your own path."
"It's not really a future event though," Lydia argued, "It's a present event."
"No," Abigail said firmly, "I'm sorry." She smiled at Emma Jane again, "Your son's very beautiful."
"I wouldn't know," Emma Jane replied, "I haven't seen him."
"Oh you must!" Abigail said, and in a rush of air, they were standing in the next room watching as Doctor O'Neil and Mrs Brown looked after the baby.
"He's still very weak," the doctor was saying, removing his stethoscope, "His lungs haven't fully matured and I'm not sure he's getting enough oxygen in his blood."
"Will he live?" Mrs Brown asked.
"I can't be sure. He needs nourishment and Emma Jane can't give him that. Do you have any cow or goats milk?"
"Cook may have some," Mrs Brown replied. "I'll ask her." She looked down at her grandson, "He looks like Emma Jane. He has her eyes."
"Please," Emma Jane whispered, "please let him survive." She turned to her companions, "Isn't there anything we can do?"
"You certainly can't do anything," Lydia replied, "You're neither here nor there."
"So what can you do?" Emma Jane asked.
"Nothing."
"You must be able to do something!"
"Emma Jane," Abigail said gently, "we're not high-powerful beings. We're spirits, we have no power over life and death. We're only here to guide and comfort you."
"Before what?" Emma Jane felt tears of frustration gathering, "Before I die? Before he dies?" She gestured to her son, "What is the point of this?"
"The point is to make you see things clearly," Lydia explained, "Allow you to make your own mind up about your path."
"Lydia, for once in you Goddamn life, speak sense!" Emma Jane declared angrily, causing Lydia to start.
"There's no need to shout," she replied huffily, "it's not my fault you're in this mess."
"I'm sorry," Emma Jane took a deep breath, "but I don't understand."
"You can choose where you go from here," Abigail said, "Decide whether you made the right decision all those years ago."
"I still don't…"
"You chose to go to Colorado Springs with Hank," she explained, "that's something you can't change. You can't change what's already been. But you can change the future."
"You can be with Hank, or without Hank," Lydia chipped in.
Emma Jane looked at them curiously, "But I love him, he's the father of my children. Why would I not want to be with him?"
Lydia and Abigail exchanged glances, "There's a few things you should see," the former said.
Before Emma Jane could speak, there was a strong gust of wind and she found herself standing in a street she knew oh so well. It was the main street in Colorado Springs and when she looked round, she could see all the old familiar places that she held so dear. Things looked a little different, however. For one thing, the saloon looked bigger and it had a sign above it proclaiming it was 'The Gold Nugget.'
"What is this?" she turned to where Abigail and Lydia were standing, "this doesn't look like the saloon."
"Bigger and better," Abigail replied, "Jake and Hank went into business together and opened a hotel at the saloon."
"Business?" Emma Jane looked incredulous, "When?"
"Around 1871."
"Can I go inside?"
Abigail looked grave, "Only if you want to."
"Of course I do!" Emma Jane exclaimed, "I want to see it!" She rushed forward to the door and was about to push it open when she felt herself falling through it and emerging on the other side. The place was thronging with people. Some sitting drinking and talking, others milling around and going up and down the stairs at the far end. She looked around her, unable to believe it, and then she saw Hank serving behind the bar. "Hank…" he looked up and grinned and at first, Emma Jane thought he had seen her, but then, to her utter amazement, an exact replica of herself walked past her and over to the bar. "What…?"
"It's you," Lydia pointed out helpfully, "Well, the future you."
Emma Jane followed herself over to the bar, in time to hear the conversation.
"Hey," Hank was saying, "Lookin' mighty pretty tonight, Mrs Lawson."
"Stop it!" she heard herself reply, "Honestly. What do you want?"
"Nothin'! Can't a man call his wife pretty without wantin' something?"
"Not when that man's Hank Lawson."
Hank leaned over the bar and pulled her towards him for a kiss, "Taste pretty good too," he said.
Emma Jane watched herself push him away, "Where are the children?"
"Victoria's at Grace's Café with Sam," Hank raised his eyebrows.
"Really?" Emma Jane heard herself reply, "Sounds as if they're getting serious. That's been every day this week."
"Yeah well, she is the prettiest girl in Colorado Springs," Hank replied, "after her Ma that is."
"What about Will?"
"Will?" Emma Jane turned to Lydia, "Is that my son's name?"
She nodded, "Dreadfully common, but what can I say?"
Emma Jane turned back to the conversation.
"Upstairs," Hank replied, his smile slipping slightly, "Wasn't feelin' too good earlier."
"I'm worried about him, Hank," Emma Jane heard herself say. "His cough's been getting much worse. Sometimes he can barely speak his breathing is so laboured."
"I know," Hank responded, "You talked to Michaela?"
"She says there's nothing she can do except try and help him if he gets a bad attack. Maybe I should have taken Mother up on her offer to have him to stay in New York."
"And be in all that smoke and fog?" Hank replied, "He's better out here, in the fresh air."
"You're right," Emma Jane heard herself say.
"Course I am," Hank grinned again, "Ain't I always?"
Emma Jane looked at her companions, "So my son's going to be ill?"
"He has medical problems, yes," Lydia replied.
Emma Jane sighed, "Well, as long as we're together and we have Michaela on hand to help, I don't see why everything shouldn't work out fine." She watched as Lydia and Abigail exchanged looks, "What is it?"
"It's not that simple, Emma Jane," Abigail replied.
"What do you mean?" In the next instant, the scene changed and Emma Jane found herself standing in the middle of the saloon, but in a much different atmosphere. The place was deserted, with no customers at all. When she looked at the windows, the shutters were drawn, though she could tell it was daylight outside. "What's happened?" she asked.
"Upstairs, Emma Jane," Abigail replied softly.
Emma Jane looked towards the flight of stairs and made her way slowly over. As she climbed each step, she felt her heart pounding with fear, worrying about what she might find when she reached the top. By some instinct when she did, she seemed to know exactly which way to go, and when she pushed open the first door, she saw someone lying on a bed, crying. As she moved closer, she realised it was herself. She looked down at herself, knowing in her heart why she was crying and yet not wanting to give voice to it.
"Please God, no," she whispered.
At that moment, the door to the room opened again and Emma Jane gasped as a young woman who could only be Victoria came in. She was unmistakable with her long blonde hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of Hank. "Ma?" She hurried over to the bed, "Ma, please don't cry." She sat down next to her mother and put her arm around her, "Please don't cry, Ma."
Emma Jane watched herself lift her head and was shocked by the red eyes and tear-stained face. "Victoria…" she heard herself moan.
"I'm here, Ma," Victoria replied. "Don't worry, I'm here."
"It's just so unfair. Will…"
"I know, Ma, I know."
"He was just a child…" Emma Jane heard her own voice break again, "He was my child…"
She whirled around to face Lydia and Abigail, "No, this can't be right. Please, please tell me this isn't going to happen. I can't bear it!"
"Your son was very sick, Emma Jane," Abigail replied sympathetically, "It's a miracle he survived to the age of sixteen."
"Sixteen!" Emma Jane exclaimed, "No that's too young, it can't be right!"
"It was his time…"
"Don't say that!" Emma Jane screamed, "You can't believe that! You can't believe it was your time, or Hannah's, or Lydia's…" she gestured to her silent sister, "You can't believe that, surely!"
"It's not fair, I know," Abigail said, "maybe if things had been different…"
"Different? Different how?"
"This is but one path, Emma Jane," Lydia stepped forward, "there is another."
"I don't understand," Emma Jane replied, "Are you saying there's a way that I could save my son?"
"Yes."
"Then show me it. Please, I need to see it!"
"As long as you're sure," Abigail said.
"Of course I am!" Emma Jane insisted, "Let me see it!"
There was another sudden burst of wind and she suddenly found herself standing the hallway of the grandest house she had ever laid eyes on. The floors were covered with the most expensive of carpets, the furniture all looked as though it belonged in a palace and above her head, there was a crystal chandelier. As she looked around, the sound of laughter came from a nearby room and she walked towards it, curious. Opening the door, she entered into a huge dining room, with a long table in the centre, at which sat the cream of New York society, though markedly aged. She scanned the faces, recognising some and not others and gasped in shock when she saw herself sitting at the head of the table wearing an exquisite blue gown.
"Well naturally I told Frank that there was no point in having the blue unless we were going to have the green too. And he agreed!" she heard herself say. The table descended into laughter, "I do have the most wonderful husband." Emma Jane followed her own gaze and looked at the man sitting at the opposite end. He was extremely good looking, with dark wavy hair and eyes.
He raised his glass to her, "And I the most beautiful wife."
"Here, here!" someone chimed in.
Emma Jane walked slowly along the side of the table to where she saw herself sitting and picked up on the conversation that was beginning between herself and what looked suspiciously like Clara Bowman.
"My dear Emma Jane," Clara was saying, "Have you and Frank decided which part of Europe you're going to visit this summer?"
Emma Jane saw herself put her wine glass down, "Frank thought about Paris, but Victoria has her heart set on Milan. She wants to see what the Italian designers are creating this season. Honestly, she's got more dresses than I do!"
Clara laughed, "I'm surprised Victoria wants to go to Europe at all. Thomas and I were under the impression she was very keen on that young Drake Edwards."
"Oh she is, she is," Emma Jane heard herself say, "But I believe she's trying your trick by running away to Europe for three months, in the hope that he'll be just as besotted with her on her return." She looked down the table and Emma Jane followed her gaze, gasping as her eyes rested on the same Victoria she had seen at the saloon.
"My trick?" Clara laughed gamely, "It's your trick too, my dear. I seem to remember you keeping dear Frank hanging on for your affections."
"And he was well worth it," Emma Jane heard herself say, "he really is the sweetest man." Her smile faded, "I received a letter from Hank this morning."
Clara's eyes widened, "What did it say?"
"He wanted to know whether I had given any more thought to Victoria and Will spending the summer with him in Colorado Springs."
"And?"
"I really don't know. I know Victoria's looking forward to going to Europe, and I doubt very much she would choose to go back there. As for Will, well he seems quite taken with the idea of holidaying with Henry Fuller and his family this summer at their house in Connecticut. I wouldn't want to deprive him of that."
Emma Jane spun around to look at Lydia and Abigail, "This isn't me!" she insisted, "and it's not my children either! They would never shun their father, never, and neither would I!"
"You have to admit," Lydia said, looking at Emma Jane's husband," Frank Williams is quite a catch."
Emma Jane didn't reply, for her future self was speaking again, "I really don't think I would trust him with them any more. I suppose I've only realised since I've been married to Frank just how…rough a person he really was. It's taken a lot of effort to bring them up in New York society and I don't want Hank to undo all my hard work by having them live in the saloon."
"No!" Emma Jane declared loudly, "That's not true, it's not!" She looked at the grown up version of her child, "None of this is real, it can't be!"
"It's a vision of what could be, that's all," Abigail said.
"But this isn't my life!" Emma Jane said, "I don't belong in this…this palace. I belong in the saloon, home in Colorado Springs, with Hank!"
"You just think that because you've known nothing else for so long," Lydia said, "but with Frank, you can have every luxury you've ever wanted. And Will and Victoria will want for nothing either. They'll mix in the right circles and Drake Edwards is very suitable."
"But…"
"There's more to see yet," Lydia said.
With another great gust of air, Emma Jane found herself standing in yet another room. This one was just as opulent, but the view from the window indicated that they were on a ship. She could see the ocean stretching out in front of her like a vast blue blanket.
"Where are we?" she turned back to Lydia and Abigail.
"The Valiant," Lydia replied knowingly, "Only the most elegant cruise liner in the world."
"Why are we here?"
"You're on your way to Italy of course," Lydia tutted, "Emma Jane, you really must keep up."
The door to the room opened suddenly and Emma Jane saw herself enter with Victoria. They were both laughing heartily and sat down on the cream coloured chaise longue in the centre of the room.
"That was such fun!" Victoria was saying, "I've never seen anything quite like it! And how lucky we were to be invited to sit at the Captain's table!"
"Well, Frank does have some uses," Emma Jane heard herself say, "That Mr Bonnington was quite handsome, don't you think?"
Victoria blushed, "I suppose."
"And he was looking at you quite favourably."
"Mother," Victoria sighed in exasperation, "You know how I feel about Drake. I couldn't possibly contemplate anyone else."
"Yes, yes, I know. I just want you to be sure before you accept his inevitable proposal."
"I am sure. I'm as sure as you were the day you accepted Frank."
"You were six, my darling, I doubt you remember it."
"I remember how happy you were," Victoria said knowingly, "as if you'd waited your whole life for him."
"I suppose I had."
"Will was rather naughty almost tripping that waiter up."
"Yes he was. I shall be having words with him later."
The door opened again and Frank and Will entered, "My dear," the former exclaimed, "We were just wondering where you had run off to." He planted a kiss on her cheek, "Dinner was wonderful, wasn't it?"
"Yes it was. Although you, young man," Emma Jane watched herself chastise her son, "Your behaviour was questionable."
"It was just a joke, Mother," Will replied good-naturedly, "I've got to have some amusement on board this floating hotel."
"Well I'm sorry if you're bored, but it's not our fault that Henry came down with influenza," Emma Jane heard herself say, "I've had it, and it's not pleasant. I want you to stay away from him for as long as possible."
"Yes Mother," Will sighed, "Whatever you say…"
"I don't want to see any more," Emma Jane said, tears forming in her eyes, "I don't know this Frank, I don't love him! I don't want any of this! I don't understand why you're showing me this!"
"But you're going to Italy!" Lydia declared, "I never made it to Italy."
"Then you have this life!" Emma Jane said, "Because I don't want it. Abigail…" she pleaded with her friend, "I want to be with Hank, please…"
Abigail looked at her wistfully, "Here, as Lydia said, the children will have everything they want."
"All they want are me and Hank! That's all they need!" Emma Jane yelled, "I don't understand why you're showing me a life without Hank and all this…this grandeur!"
"Emma Jane," Lydia stepped forward seriously, "Don't you see? Don't you understand?"
"No, I don't!"
"If you choose this life, if you choose to be with Frank, then Will lives. But if you choose to be with Hank…" She trailed off.
Emma Jane's eyes widened in horror, "You can't mean that. You can't mean that. Abigail…" she turned, "Abigail, she can't mean that, can she?"
Abigail's eyes were full of pity, "Emma Jane, with the best will in the world, the new frontier can't provide the same care for a sick child that New York can. You said so yourself when I died that if Colorado Springs had had a real doctor…"
"But we do! We have Michaela!"
"It's not enough. Will needs the best care."
"Then, I'll bring him to New York when he gets sick," Emma Jane said, "I'll make sure he gets the best medical attention."
Abigail shook her head, "It may be too late."
"No!" Emma Jane screamed, "No, this isn't going to happen! I won't let it!" She stamped her foot furiously, "My son is not going to die and I am going to be with Hank!"
"Emma Jane…" Lydia stepped forward, but her sister tried to shake her off, "Emma Jane!" She pulled her round to face her, "Life isn't always fair. I should know that, Abigail should know that. We're dead! We've already left our families, our children and we had no choice! You have a choice to save your son and you have to take it!"
"I can't," Emma Jane sobbed, "I can't choose, you can't make me choose."
"You're right," Lydia continued, "We can't make you choose, we can only guide you towards the best path. Staying in New York and marrying Frank is the best path."
"I can't believe that, I won't believe that," Emma Jane protested. She turned back to Abigail, "You had a good life ahead of you. You had Martin. You were going to marry him and live at the store with your parents. But you chose Sully. You followed your heart and you chose Sully. Can you honestly tell me now that you regret it? That you wish you hadn't married him?"
Abigail lowered her eyes, "No."
"Then surely you can understand why I want to be with Hank!"
"This is different," Abigail said, "there was no child at stake in my situation."
"What about Hannah?"
"If I could have saved her, I would have. I died hoping to give her life," Abigail, "and I failed. You can succeed. All you have to do is give Hank up."
"I won't," Emma Jane said, "I've spent the last six months miserable without him. I belong with him, we belong together. I'm not giving that up on a maybe. I'll take care of Will, I swear, and I'll do everything I can to save him. But I'd rather he have sixteen years with Hank and I, than a lifetime of this!" she swung her arm around, "Maybe you think that's wrong, but I don't care. Maybe you think that money and parties and suitable men are what's important, but it's not. It's love and family and being together and we can give our children that! I want to be with Hank!"
Abigail and Lydia exchanged glances, "If that's what you want…" the latter said.
"It is," Emma Jane replied resolutely.
"Then that is the path you take," Abigail said, "when you wake up, follow your heart, stay with Hank. But you'll only have a small window of opportunity if you wish to change your mind. Once it's gone, you can't ever go back."
Emma Jane nodded, "I understand."
Abigail smiled at her, "I wish you well, I really do."
"Just remember, we're always watching, and criticising," Lydia chimed in, "Oh…" she looked as though she might start to cry, "Keep in touch with Sarah and Lucy, won't you? They do think the world of you and…well…I know Arthur hasn't been…"
"I will," Emma Jane replied, "I promise. Will you…say hello to Charlotte and Carolyn for me…if you can?"
"Of course," Abigail replied, "We're one big family here."
"Speak for yourself," Lydia grumbled, "That Carolyn thinks she's so much better than…"
"Lydia…" Abigail broke in sharply.
"Sorry," Lydia replied, "Safe journey Emma Jane."
Emma Jane opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't find any words, as she was suddenly hurtled back through time and space, her body floating once again, until she felt herself being dragged down. She closed her eyes and waited for the landing.
SSSS
Hank sat up stiffly from the chair he had been sleeping in and rubbed his neck. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but the sky was growing dark again and fat drops of rain splattered onto the window. He rubbed his eyes roughly with the back of his hands, hoping in some way the action might rub away all the pain he was carrying, all the heavy hurt that was encircling his heart. Doctor O'Neil had checked earlier and said that Emma Jane's condition hadn't improved. He had gazed sympathetically at Hank and the younger man had known what the doctor wanted to say and yet couldn't.
Standing up, he walked over to the window and looked out at the grey sky. The baby was doing slightly better, he had been told. He was looking a little pinker which was a good sign and his breathing was better. But it was still too earlier to say if he was going to pull through. Hank had prayed, so hard, begged for their lives, promised he would do anything if they would only live, but so far, his prayers had gone unanswered…
"Hank…?" the tinniest sound met his ears and he turned around, "Hank…?" Looking over at the bed, he saw Emma Jane's eyes fluttering and he hurried over beside her.
"Emma?" Her face was less flushed and when he touched her face, the fever had all but subsided, "Emma Jane, can ya hear me?"
Emma Jane opened her eyes and saw her husband clearly leaning over her. "Hank…" she reached up and touched his face, "It's you…you're here."
"Course I'm here," he replied, taking her hand in his and kissing it, "Bin here the whole time. God, I'm so glad you're a'right." He put his arms under her body and pulled her up to him, "Thought I was gonna lose ya for a while." He put her back down, "How ya feelin'?"
"I'm…I'm not sure," she replied, and she wasn't. She didn't feel half as good as she had done during her…well, she wasn't quite sure what it had been – a dream? "The baby…" her mind fixated on her son.
"Doin' better so the Doc says," Hank replied, "Don't know fer sure if he's gonna be ok, yet, but he's holdin' on."
"Will," she said.
"Will what?"
"His name. Will." He looked at her quizzically, "He has the will to live…so we should call him Will."
Hank grinned and bent and kissed her gently, "If that's what ya want."
At that moment, the door opened and Doctor O'Neil came in, "Well, well," he said, "Emma Jane, you look better."
"I…feel better Doctor," she replied, "Still a little weak…"
"As to be expected," the doctor replied, "you've come through quite an ordeal over the last few hours. We thought we were going to lose you, but your husband here was determined we weren't." He clapped Hank on the shoulder, "If only we all had his faith."
Emma Jane smiled at her husband, "I suppose you'll be going to church every Sunday from now on."
He leaned in, "Wouldn't go that far." He turned back to the doctor, "Can she see the baby now?"
"I don't see why not," Doctor O'Neil replied, "I'll fetch him." He disappeared back out of the room.
Emma Jane looked at Hank, "I love you."
"I love ya too," he kissed her again, "Can't wait to git ya out of here and back home."
"I hope…Mother hasn't been too hard on you."
"Not at all," he replied, "Fact is, reckon we may have reached an understandin'." He looked at her proudly.
She smiled, "That's good to hear."
Hank's smile faded slightly, "Listen, gotta tell ya that…well, the Doc reckons ya shouldn't have any more children. Reckons that even without the influenza, the birth was hard enough fer ya."
"We have two beautiful children," she replied, "I think that's enough to keep us busy."
He smiled at her, "Reckon I'll have to be careful then. Gonna have to keep that passion fer ya under control."
She was prevented from replying by the return of Doctor O'Neil cradling the baby in his arms. Hank helped her to pull herself up in the bed and rest back against the pillows so she could hold her son. As he was put into her arms, Emma Jane looked down at him, a thousand emotions building inside of her. He was so small and so helpless and, if everything in her dream was to come true, would only live to be sixteen. But, gazing at him, and then back at Hank, she knew she was making the right decision.
"He still needs looking after," Doctor O'Neil said, "he's still very weak and I wouldn't be happy to let you take him back to Colorado just yet. So, if you wouldn't mind staying in New York?"
"Of course not," Emma Jane replied, "but just for a little while. We've got a home waiting for us." She looked at Hank again, "All of us."
Next chapter coming soon!
