January 11

Rosemary winced as she leaned forward to place the cool cloth on her swollen ankle, resting on the edge of a nearby chair. Whoever put that gardening spade on the pathway, anyway? How was she supposed to know, this morning, her arms loaded with wash to be hung on the line, that the spade would trip her up and cause her such utter agony? She took a second glance at her ankle, which was puffing up by the minute. If this didn't beat all! She was already incapable of much of her normal way of life with the growing little one inside of her, and now this. She rubbed a soft circle on her midsection. Well, that was at least one thing to be thankful for: Her fall had been cushioned by the basket full of linens, so although her backside felt a bit bruised, the baby inside was well.

It was at time like this she craved the modern conveniences of the city. Imagine— what a perfect reason to have a telephone inside her own home. She'd be able to reach Lee at the office or even Doc Carson at the infirmary. But now, with her nearest neighbor, Elizabeth, gone for the school day, she would have to sit here and wait. It was going to be a wretched, long day.

A light tap sounded at the door.

Rosemary glanced up. She wasn't expecting company, but Saints alive- anyone who would be able to fetch the doctor and help her out of this horrid condition was welcome.

With no other option, she called out: "Who is it?"

"Florence."

"Oh, do come on in. Please come in right away." She called out. The doorknob turned and opened revealing Hope Valley's favorite busy body, Florence Blakeley, who was dressed to the nines in a snazzy purple velvet dress, clutching her satchel to her chest. She smiled ecstatically, then her eyes rounded as she saw Rosemary, sitting at the table with her foot uplifted onto another chair.

"Oh dear, whatever has happened?" Florence scurried over to her side, dropped her satchel on the table, and peered at the swelling ankle from a distance.

"Well, honestly, I didn't see the garden spade until I had tripped over it."

"Goodness! And you in your condition!" Florence's cheeks blushed pink. She was well on her way to working herself into a frenzy. Florence lifted the cool rag from Rosemary's ankle. She gasped. "Land sakes! It's already about the size of a baseball!"

It felt like the size of a baseball. Rosemary felt every throb of her heartbeat in her ankle. She glanced down. It was swelling, but a long way off from matching the sizing of a baseball, thank goodness.

"You poor dear. What do you need? Does Lee know? Shall I fetch the doctor?" Florence's questions buzzed around the room like a pesky fly.

"Well, if you could ask Doc Carson to come out I'd appreciate it. Just to make sure it isn't broken."

Florence nodded. "Say no more. I am on it."

And with that, she floated out of the room just as quickly as she had arrived.

When the door slammed shut, she realized she should have at least asked Florence to bring her the copy of Easton's Shopping Catalogue from her small nightstand upstairs. Fiddlesticks. Now she would be stuck sitting here doing nothing until the Doctor's return. She drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, trying to recall the list she had started this morning. She'd need things for the new house—lamps, curtains, and a few large rugs—just to name a few. Also, she probably should start a list for the baby. What did one even need for the arrival of a new baby? Perhaps she could ask Florence and Dottie for their recommendations, even though their babies were now nearly grown.

A knock sounded at the door. It was entirely too early for Doc Carson or Florence's return. Unless she ran into him on the road back to town…

"Rosemary? Are you home?" Bill's urgent voice sliced through the thick door.

"Bill?"

"Yes, it is important I speak to you at once."

Her heart sped up in her chest. What was the reason for his visit? "Come in."

Bill delved into the living room, his big boots clomping indelicately upon her delicate European rug.

"Rosemary, we need you to come down to the office immediately."

"Oh dear! Is everything okay? Is Lee alright?"

"Oh it's nothing involving Lee. It's actually in regards to Kirill and Fife. Hey- what's the matter with your foot, anyway?"

She grimaced. "I twisted my ankle. Florence is on the way to retrieve Doc Carson."

Bill grunted. "You're okay besides the ankle?" He glanced quickly at her belly, an awkwardness appearing on his face at the mention of her unborn baby.

"I believe so."

"Okay, good." He looked around the room and grunted. "Well, I guess this will have to do."

"For?"

Bill pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. He sighed and then pulled his notebook out of his shirt pocket.

"For your statement. Usually I insist on having the witnesses come into the office, but considering the circumstances I guess this will work. Every moment we waste is a moment they get further from our reach."

"Oh okay. You said it was regarding Kirill and Mr. Fife?"

"Yes. Running back through my notes, it appears you are the only one in town who saw this Mr. Fife."

"Oh my. I did not realize that. He sure was a scary, intimidating hooligan. What do you need?"

"Just tell me about the time he came into the dress shop."

"Okay, well, he came in to the dress shop while Dottie was out at lunch. In hindsight, I realize he assumed I was Dottie and was asking for his order. I refused him, just thinking he was picking up a shirt or something related to our shop."

"Could you give me a description of the fellow?"

"Why sure. He was a tall, lumberjack type with dark hair and whiskers."

"How tall would you guess him to be?"

"Oh, at least six foot if not taller. Oh, and he had these big old clunky boots, and his breath reeked of tobacco."

"Okay, anything else that might help set him apart?"

She thought long and hard. The whole day was very unsettling and she had tried her best to forget it. When he had asked for his order, she had assumed he came in to get a suit because his regular clothes were disorderly and somewhat soiled. Nothing at all like a gentlemen's clothing. He had his shirt cuffs rolled up and— oh yes!

"He had a long, perhaps two inch birthmark on one of his arms. It must have been his right arm."

"Good. That is exactly the kind of identifying mark I'm looking for." Bill jotted in his notepad. "It's a shame it is an easy thing to cover up."

"Is this just information for the preliminarily trial? I heard the Judge should be in town later this week, correct?"

Bill rubbed his hand across his jaw and sighed.

"That is what we hoped for. Things have a way of getting a bit more complicated."

"How so? Dottie still has a good chance of coming out of this scandal unscathed, does she not?"

"Well, things have taken a turn for the worse."

"How so?" Her voice became shrill.

"You see… Kirill—" Bill cleared his throat uncomfortably, "he escaped from jail last night."

She gasped.

"And the thing is… it was this fellow, Fife, who busted him out."

"Oh goodness! He came to free his boss from the jail?"

"Actually, it's just recently come to light that Fife wasn't working for Kirill, but Kirill was working for Fife. You see, Adam Fife is on the list as being one of Canada's top ten criminals. He hasn't been spotted in years. Until now, we weren't sure if he was still alive."

Why would he decide to come here? Now? Her heart thudded overtime. One of Canada's top criminals in their town? In their shop? Threatening none other than little old her? Her eyelids began to flicker.

Bill stood up and fanned her face with his notepad. "Stay with me, Rosemary."

She blinked rapidly a few times while Bill scuffled around in the kitchen.

"Here, drink this." A cool tin cup was placed in her hands.

She obediently drank sip after sip of cool water.

After a moment, Bill took the cup from her. "Better?"

She nodded slightly. It was then she remembered the most important question of all: "What about Dottie? Is she safe?"

"She is with Pastor Frank and Abigail for the moment. There are arrangements for her to stay with the Jamestons on their farm tonight."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Jameston was known for his size and his considerably large collection of shotguns. Her friend would be safe.

"Your color is looking a mite better. Will you be alright if I head back into town?" Bill's face took on a strange softness she had never seen of him before. Why, he was truly concerned for her. That big old goon had them all fooled! Contrary to what everyone thought, the man did have a soft corner in his heart.

Unaccustomed to his show of sentiment, she merely nodded.

He tromped to the door and looked back once more. "I'll stop in and tell Lee of your incident."

She nodded numbly.

The minute the door closed behind him, the fears reached up and began to choke the very life out of her. Kirill? Adam Fife? On the loose? What kind of criminal records did they have? And Dottie- was she truly safe? Would they be able to clear her husband's involvement or would she have to pay his debt? And if she did, they would more than likely lose the shop. And her lousy ankle. How long would she have to be off her foot anyway? How would she be able to meet the stage and stop Harriet's visit into town with a bum foot? She would have to stop her, or else, the town, Lee, would know her secret. She wasn't ready. Yet what was she to do? The anxieties started to swirl through her mind, and before she knew it she could scarcely draw a breath, her heart racing in overtime.

"God, help me!" She breathed as the room closed in.