Thankfully, the tightening in Rosemary's midsection relaxed just as quickly as it had come on. She wanted to moan in relief, but instead, sighed into the tartan plaid coat sleeve. She had been gripping onto the sleeve for dear life, as if Lee himself was there, wearing the jacket, comforting her. She felt a lump rise in her throat. If only he was here. He would know what to do. And even if he didn't know what to do in regards to the contractions, his presence would be the only comfort she would need. She swiped an errant tear away and tried again to focus on the conversation directly outside of the parlor door.

The two criminals were muttering and grunting while the metal saw continued to grate against the precious chestnut wood of the sewing machine. Thankfully, it provided noise to cover her labored breathing. If not for it, she would have surely been found out by now.

"I think a donkey could find it quicker than you are. Hurry it up," the deep voice of the boss complained.

"Tell me again what size you think it to be?" The country bumpkin said, perhaps trying to divert the boss's anger that the item was not found yet.

"It's a coin, dimwit. About 'yay' big." The boss said. "I let it slip out of my hands once. It ain't going to happen twice."

"That's one thing I know about you boss. You ain't one to let anyone do you wrong. Least of all this Silas character."

Rosemary's skin pricked. So, it was something about Dottie's husband, Silas. What was the story Gowen had told all those months ago in the sheriff's office? Something about Silas borrowing money from Kirill… an outstanding debt yet to be paid. She scratched her head. There must be more to the story. Like how did a coin get into the sewing machine in the first place? Or how did Fife know about it?

"I'm just glad that man is six feet under or I would have buried him myself. No one steals from me and lives to tell about it." The boss spat and she winced thinking about her rug now carrying the stain.

"But technically you said he stole it from Kirill, right? So Kirill is the fool, not you."

She heard the boss grunt. "You got that right. I don't care if Kirill rots in jail. He was just the middleman. I'm the one with the power. With the money." He laughed a sinister laugh. "To think that man thought himself my equal."

The sawing paused, an urgent shuffling replacing the noise. "Boss, I think I found something."

"Well get it, fool." The boss's voice was urgent, expectant.

More shuffling.

"Well?"

"It's not quite…" The bumpkin stammered.

"Not quite what?" The boss yelled.

"Not quite what we are looking for."

The boss cursed.

"Sorry, boss. I didn't know it was just one of them there thimbles."

The boss groaned. "You better pray you find that coin before my temper goes."

The sawing continued at a frenzied pace for a moment or two.

"You know, this reminds me of that dad-blasted dress shop." The boss's anger must have dissipated and Rosemary could imagine him fingering the thimble as he reminisced. "You should have seen it. Oh, the mess we made out of it." He laughed dryly. "That's the way Kirill liked to do things. But I was the one digging through Silas' house than onto that rowhouse. Those ones, I left spotless. Kirill had been getting sloppy and got caught for it. No way would I get caught for something as stupid as all that."

Rosemary gasped. He was the one who had broken into the rowhouse when Lee was away with Bill and Jack? They had left to capture… Fife, but he had eluded them again. The man here, "boss" called Kirill the middleman. Mentioned they raided the dress shop. Could it be 'boss" was Fife? But on his wanted poster, it had said his capture was pending months ago by the Mounties. They surely had caught him by now. Hadn't they? She shivered. One encounter with the criminal in the dress shop months ago was one meeting more than enough.

"I did help myself to a few little items then… a ruby necklace… a pair of cuff links."

Rosemary gasped. She thought she had just misplaced the items in her befuddled pregnancy thinking, but this man had helped himself to their treasures? She felt her stomach roil over.

"I think I will follow in kind now," the boss continued. "You keep looking. I'm going to go find me some treasure." The boot steps walked around the rug as if he was accessing items in her home. "And don't you think about stealing that coin from me. I'll have a bullet in your chest faster than you can blink."

"Yes boss." The scuffling continued and she could hear various items being moved around the parlor. Her precious parlor.

"This golden letter opener will do." The boss sounded downright satisfied. "Maybe even this fine pearl clasp."

Rosemary touched the back of her hair where just yesterday the heirloom clasp had laid. She'd grown weary of the extra weight and discarded it on the mantle after supper. He couldn't take her clasp. It was the only item she had left from her mother Catherine.

"And I think I will leave a little damage in my wake." He laughed and the distinct sound of a large pocketknife opening caught her ears. Then a slashing sound. It was the sound of a knife on fabric. What fabric could he be slashing… surely not… the fabric of her new settee?! A scream rose up in her throat.

"I want them to know it is 'Adam' who was here. The great Adam Fife."

She clamped her hands over her mouth, willing the scream to die in her throat. So it was as suspected. The criminal, Fife, was the one who had been in her rowhouse and was here now. No one had believed her about the original break in but she just knew someone had been snooping around. Her thimble— she had found it on the ground, under the settee, out of place. And Sidney, she had been a complete basket case because of the intrusion. Her heart sank. Poor Sidney was probably cowering under the coach now wondering what these dreadful old criminals were up to.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a huge crash sounded, pieces of glass splintering all over the floor. Oh that better not be her Italian vase. It was the one they had gotten on their honeymoon. Her heart hammered. First her settee, then her priceless Italian vase? Why, she oughta bust out of here and give that man the what for. She'd shake her fist in his face and slice him up and down with her words… and her little knife.

Her belly tightened in that odd way again reminding her that she had more troubles than just the criminals to deal with. She braced herself for the intense wave of pain that would soon follow. Gone were the thoughts of the slashed settee or the broken vase, or even of the two criminals outside the door. If only she could get through this next contraction. It seemed the tightening, the hardening, the pulling, it was all growing dreadfully in intensity. If only her Lee was here! Longing surged up inside of her— a longing to feel his arms around her, his calming presence beside her. But no, the closet was empty. Completely and utterly empty of anyone she could count on. He was not here. Again, she had been left alone. Her heart began to pound a fearful beat as she gripped the jacket sleeve. Once again and that all-too-familiar terror surged through her, whispering to her that she was alone. Deserted by those she loved. Abandoned. Unworthy. Unaccepted.

In the past, that overwhelming feeling of being alone would encircle her and chase her down into a blackhole, where there was no hope, no light. She'd been down that path many a time. But no. Not again. Ever since that day she opened her heart to Jesus as Lord and Savior, she knew that it could no longer hold power over her. It was a lie. That day months ago, God made it plain to her that his promise to be with her, never to leave her, would be true for all the rest of her days. He wouldn't be changing his mind now. Not ever.

So, her Lee may not be here, but God's infallible presence was. Even in her darkest moment of need He was there. Even when no one else was.

She pinched her eyes shut, tears trickling down her cheek in their silent trails.

"God, I'm needing you now more than ever before," she silently whispered into the coat sleeve. "These babies… they want to come soon. But as you know there are some criminals out there. It's not safe. I am stuck. I'm alone. I'm scared. I don't know what to do. Be with me. Be with me, God."

Then, just as thick as Lee's comforting flannel plaid jacket, God's presence filled the small space and surrounded her, strengthening her as another painful contraction ripped through her.