"Well, I've heard of ONE way..." Frances said softly from the doorway, where he watched without being taken notice of.
"No, there isn't," Landau snapped, a bit peeved that this boy would even suggest such. "There is no way to save this woman.
"Um... In a book. The missus lets me borrow from her library," the boy explained. Will looked up at Patricia, whose eyes were still unfocused. "A man... A doctor, actually... His wife was in the same position the missus is in. He remembered a story about Julius Caesar, sir. Caesar's mum also had the problem so they cut her stomach and got the baby then stitched her back up like it was nothing... Why don't you do that? I mean, those two women lived through it."
"That's preposterous!" Landau exclaimed. "That is the most absurd idea I've ever heard of! That woman will surely die if I attempted that procedure!"
"Didn't you say she would surely die if we don't get our baby out?" Will murmured. Landau turned to Will and frowned.
"Well, yes but..." Landau didn't really know how to argue to that comment. "But Mr. Turner, you couldn't possibly consider such a procedure. I've never even heard of it; much less know how to go about PERFORMING it on a person."
"Can you call the surgeon?" Will interrupted, ignoring Landau's protests. The other less assertive doctors shook their heads and looked at each other dismayed at the idea.
"He's having tea at the Fiddler's, sir," Lucinda answered. "I'll call for him." With that she left.
"Mr. Turner, I do NOT recommend this process... You will surely lose her!"
Will stayed silent for a moment, pondering the physician's words. If he didn't allow this operation, Patricia would die... probably along with their child... He loses them both. If he does allow it, Patricia still might die... But there was a chance she could make it... And if they get to their child in time...
"Dr. Landau, I've got everything or nothing to lose," Will said firmly, standing up against the well-learned man. Landau pursed his lips and nodded his head, knowing that even if he didn't like the idea he had to do what he could for Patricia Turner.
"I still say that this is the wrong direction to go about things," Landau sighed. Silence befell them and it wasn't long until Lucinda and the surgeon, James Morris, were coming up the stairs. Morris had his surgeon's bag and came in.
"I'm needed? What's wrong, Joseph?" Morris asked, seeing the frown in his colleague's face.
"We're asked to pull the babe out through an incision," Landau replied.
"Oh! A caesarian section, then?" Morris smiled, putting his hands together and rubbing them eagerly. "Don't get to do THIS very often."
"You've heard of it?"
"Of course, I have! Done it a few times, given I'm one of the few that can... Now where is that scalpel..." Landau sat back, wide-eyed. "You, boy..." Frances came up, grinning, thinking that it might be because of him that his master's wife would survive. "Boiling water and some towels..." He nodded and ran while Morris continued rummaging through his bag and taking out a pair of gloves, a scalpel and a thread and needle.
"Will it work?" Will asked, still holding Patricia's hand.
"As well as we can hope or as bad as we can fear."
"Your confidence in your own work reassures me, Mr. Morris," Will said sarcastically. "I want to know if I'll have a family when you complete the surgery."
"That, Mr. Turner, is entirely up to God," Morris answered. "Now, if you'll so kindly leave in peace and in my work..." Frances was coming up with a pot of steaming water and an armful of towels.
"What! Can't I stay!" Will protested but he was already being dragged away by Frances who had put the pot down and was being told to shoo as well.
"Mr. Turner, sir... We'd be nothing but a bother in there," Frances said soothingly. "Just breathe and let the physicians do what they can for your wife..."
Will nodded and dropped down into the desk chair, propping his elbows on the table and dropping his head in agitation. His knee was bouncing, restlessly, and he found his ears pricking up at slightest sound from the room.
"You should relax, Mr. Turner," Frances advised from his seat on the couch. He had a book on his lap and was smiling calmly at his master.
"How can I relax?" Will snapped, angrily. "My wife is at death's door! I can lose her AND my first born on one fell swoop and you ask me to relax!" His angry face suddenly softened and shook his head wearily. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to yell at you... In fact, I should be on my knees thanking you for bringing up the subject of the surgery... If you hadn't been there..." Will looked away, not wanting to think about those consequences.
"I know, Mr. Turner," Frances nodded, still smiling brightly. "But I'm sure the missus would have been saved otherwise... I mean... well, I hope you don't mind but the missus told me a bit of her adventures here with you... But anyway, I would really think that after all that hubbub with the natives; I don't think pregnancy would be the death of her."
"You're right... Absolutely right..." Will tried to reassure himself as well as the boy did, but, truth was, he was still scared beyond death. He couldn't help but marvel at Frances, however.
A boy of about fifteen or sixteen, Frances McKinnott taught himself his numbers and letters finding that he had a natural talent with them. Not being very strong physically, his intellectual talents were almost led to waste when Will had come to find him in the Southampton docks trying to get a job. Will hired him immediately when he learned that Frances could work with numbers well... and now the boy was neither homeless and a slight less than the orphan he used to be; Frances had managed to rent a flat some streets up the town, and connected with Patricia. He was always visiting her and reading with her... and Patricia found him easy company, since she wasn't that much older... Maybe only by four years... Will had a feeling that Frances might be harboring some unsolicited feelings towards his wife but Will brushed it aside. He knew Frances to be loyal enough to never betray his trust and was secure that Patricia loved him and wouldn't leave him. It was one of the many reasons that they had agreed on letting him come with them to the Caribbean.
Time had gone by like an eternity. Will never realized that the ticks of the grandfather clock and the dead silence of the house could be so stifling and maddening. However, Frances hadn't even budged from his stone-silent position at the sofa.
He needed some peace of mind but he could find so little of it in the stretched seconds that passed him. He looked down at the table and saw the discarded quill, open inkbottle and notebook left by Patricia awhile ago. Will's fingers flipped through the pages and found the newest entry. It was the list of names... He grinned slightly, noticing that 'Jack' was absent from the long list. His fingers went down the female list and ticked off the ones he immediately disliked.
"Antigone… Clytemnestra… Electra… That's it… I'm banning her from Greek mythology from now on…" he muttered, crossing away the names. "I'm not naming my daughter after some tragic heroine…" He went down and found one that Patricia had circled. "Annalee… Hmm…"
Then he went down the boy's list. "No to Alvis… No to Frey… No to Odin… No to Loki… Note to self, throw out all Norse mythology books as well…" His hand kept striking at the names until he finally got to some he liked… "Jordan… I like… Michael…" Patricia's circled name leaped at him and…
"Mr. Turner?" Lucinda called from the door. Will was terrified of looking up, knowing that the woman's expression would be the gauge to what the outcome was. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest when he saw the smile on her face. It was then that he could actually make out the muffled crying of a baby from the room.
"Is she.. She's… Please tell me that Patricia's…"
"Patricia's… Well at least, she SHOULD be fine…" Lucinda sighed in relief,
"Can I see her?"
"Not her quite yet… The doctors are still finishing up but your son is up for some visitors," Lucinda answered from the doorway, holding a little bundle. Will stood up, knocking the table and spilling the ink but he didn't even notice the black ink spilling on the wood. He strode to his son, his eyes wide with both terror and anticipation.
"Son?" Will stammered.
"Son…" Lucinda smiled, placing the crying little boy in his arms. As Will's arms grasped around the little life, he grinned and the boy began to quiet. "Any idea to a name?"
Will forced his eyes up to her and noticed that Frances was cleaning up the mess he had made at the table. The ink was everywhere and Frances' fingers were darkening from the solution. He smiled apologetically at Frances and the younger man just shrugged. Will's eyes found the paper and he smiled.
"Aidan… I want to name him Aidan…" Will smiled, knowing that Patricia had chosen the name as well.
"Aidan, he is, then," Lucinda replied.