One of my rescued puppies chewed through my laptop cord, which means I'm without my usual computer. Expect me to be a little slow while I adjust to my husband's PC. And hey, I already started the next Shringaar chapter. Go me! LOL.
Shringaar6
She had no cousins, no aunts and uncles, no grandparents. Erik didn't know if he felt sorry for his daughter or if he should relish having her all to himself. There would be no older woman cooing over his shoulder, insisting that she hold her new granddaughter. No man smoking on the back steps, telling tales of his own childhood—or of Corinna's.
He looked away from Sori, unwilling to allow bitterness to enter his heart as he gazed at her round, blotchy newborn face.
How he loved those tiny, slanted eyes, that misshapen head and scratched, reddened complexion. How he adored those piercingly high wails, those tightly clenched fists, and those grunts that meant it was time to hand her over to a woman for changing.
He smiled to himself. Five days had passed since her birth and he was certain he'd changed her diaper more often than anyone else, merely because it meant he could hold her and sing to her a moment longer. She always appeared mesmerized when she heard his voice.
"She must recognize it from her time in the womb," Corinna told him.
She knew him without seeing him, loved him, perhaps, without ever knowing him.
Erik discovered soon enough that the infant didn't do much during her day, which had come as a surprise to him. He'd had no experience with babies, but he'd always expected something more than continuous sleep interrupted by brief moments of feeding and changing. He'd never thought that she'd have a difficult time holding her head up, which to him seemed like something everyone should be capable of doing. Horses could walk moments after birth, but humans were helpless. She was fragile, and he needed to protect her every second of every day.
That gave way to pride. And fear. Once, while she squirmed and kicked during a diaper change, she'd nearly wriggled off the bed. It had terrified him to think of her falling, her tiny head injured from the impact of hitting the floor. And then, with her unstable neck, she'd swung back as he carried her down the stairs and nearly rammed herself into the wall. For someone so small and helpless, she certainly proved a danger to herself.
As much as he wanted to hold her constantly, operas needed to be written and sold, funds managed, servants paid. Corinna's father had owned several small properties in London, and the money from renters came at the end of each month. It wasn't much, but it kept them comfortable in their new life. If anything happened to him, Corinna and Sori would live comfortably with their monthly allowance from London. That was the only news he hoped to receive from overseas.
In five days he hadn't seen or received word from the girl who claimed to be his daughter. If she hadn't looked like her mother, he would have found her to be an annoying but harmless child. But she had her mother's face and eyes—and it was her eyes that terrified him.
Still, he found that he pitied her more than anything else. Darika didn't seem as malicious and hateful as her mother. Her show of innocence confused and alarmed him, as he was certain she toyed with his mind and wanted to gain his trust. For what, he didn't know, but with Corinna still unable or unwilling to leave her bed and a helpless newborn in his arms, he wouldn't see her again, at least not by choice.
A small bell chimed from the upstairs bedroom and Erik rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't serious," he mumbled as the chime continued to ring through the halls.
In a moment of tenderness and teasing, he'd given Corinna a small brass bell and told her to ring it when she needed him. She must have needed something urgently with the way she carried on.
"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" he asked, his head popping into the doorway to peer at her.
"I'm sore, I'm awake, and I'm bored." She pouted at him, her eyes darker than usual, her face still round but somehow different than he remembered. It was as if he hadn't looked at her for months, yet he'd seen her only hours ago.
He stared at her, unsure of what he could do to relieve her soreness, wakefulness, or boredom.
"Is there a newspaper?" she questioned. "I want to read something false."
He shook his head, smiling at her cynicism. Since they'd been alone, her mood had changed from sullen to more sharp and playful. "I haven't bought one."
Her arms flung out to receive Sori. "Buy one."
"Yes, Madame," he said dryly, offering a bow once he handed Sori to her. "Your servant always, Madame." Out of all the women in India, he'd found and fallen in love with the only one who didn't follow her Eastern roots and kiss his feet. He loved her for her disobedience.
"Shoo," she said with a smile. "And buy something sweet as well. From that place I like with the strawberries and melted chocolate. Do you know which place?"
"I know the place," he sighed. She sent him there almost daily for pastries and chocolaty treats that she blamed for her swollen hands and feet while she continued to eat them one after another. He tromped three streets down from their townhouse for her sweets, even though their rotund cook swore she could make them twice as good.
"Wait," she said before he spun on his heel and walked out the door. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
He bent and kissed her forehead as she unbuttoned her night dress and began feeding the baby. The moment his lips touched her flesh, he drew back.
"Christ, when did you become this warm?" he questioned.
She looked at him a moment, her eyes filled with fear and denial. "I'm fine."
"You're liable to light the sheets on fire." He pressed his palm to her cheeks and sat beside her, his concerns growing. Skin like fire, the pain of heat… He swallowed hard and frowned, memories fighting with the present. "You're burning up. How long have you been this warm?"
"I'm a little warm."
"A little? You have a high fever, not a mere rosy tone to your cheeks."
"It's nothing. You're exaggerating my condition."
"I'm concerned about you," he replied.
"I'm fine. It's probably normal." She trained her gaze on the baby as though Sori was the answer to her sickness and she didn't much care.
He frowned at her, concern melding with frustration. "Fevers aren't normal. Have you asked Eleanor to send for the doctor?"
"I'm not going to trouble the doctor to come clear across the neighborhood to tell me I need to rest. I've barely noticed the fever," she argued, her voice unnaturally high and pleasant.
"Well, I have. I'm sending someone to see you immediately."
"No, Erik, just leave me to rest and I'll be fine. It will pass on its own," she said, waving her hand in the air as though she didn't care if she remained fevered for a day or a month. "Really, it's nothing to worry about."
"You don't know that."
"And you don't know, either. I'm fine. All I want is a paper to read and something to eat. Shall I retrieve it myself if you refuse to go?"
He ran his fingers through his hair, over a patch of scar tissue on his scalp from a burn. The feel of it made him grimace despite no sensation to his flesh. "Your doctor will know for sure if it's something to worry about." He stood and ignored her as she continued to protest. Sori began to cry, her peaceful half-sleep disturbed by her parents' raised voices.
Leaving Corinna to shout alone, he walked into the kitchen and startled Eleanor, who was attempting to look through a periodical of new dresses and footwear while she peeled carrots.
"Sir…Monsieur," she said nervously. She always startled like a mouse, always cowered when he came into the room. Mostly it was because she had her nose in a book or a newspaper ad for hats, which seemed to be her obsession. Big, feather bonnets that looked like an entire bird was perched atop her head seemed to be her favorites.
"Fetch the doctor. Mrs. Levesque isn't feeling well."
The girl's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, dear, oh this is simply terrible. I hadn't noticed. I apologize." She stood and bobbed a curtsy. "I should have noticed. This is all my fault."
He should have noticed sooner than he did since he was her husband and should have been taking care of her. He nodded. "It's all right. Fetch one swiftly. I'll wait here until you return."
"Yes, sir. Monsieur, oui," she said in an attempt to make him comfortable. She didn't know more than a handful of words in French, and they all sounded awkward coming from her mouth.
"Thank you," he said.
"Oh, I'll feel simply wretched if anything happens to Mrs. Levesque or the baby."
He froze with his back to her and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He would die without them. Of that he was absolutely certain. Only Corinna had made him capable of living. Without her in his life, there would be nothing else for him. He wasn't ready to care for a child on his own. In his heart he was certain he'd never be prepared to care for a child.
"She'll be fine," he said, not because he believed it, but because he couldn't bear to think anything else. For his own sanity, he needed his wife to survive.
-o-
Eleanor returned faster than Erik had expected, but without a doctor in tow.
"He has another baby to bring into the world," she explained in loud, careful English.
"When will he be here?" he asked, just as loud and careful.
"Soon." Her cheeks flushed. "As soon as he can turn the baby."
He had no earthly idea what that meant and decided not to question. It didn't sound exactly pleasant.
"Send him up when he arrives," he said. "I'll be with my wife."
"Very good, sir." She bobbed another curtsy before he left.
Both mother and child were quiet when Erik walked into the bedroom. Despite the bassinette being at the foot of the bed, Corinna most often chose to sleep with Sorinji at her side in the bed.
Corinna rarely changed positions when she slept, which he found fascinating. If she fell asleep on her side, she remained on her side, yet if he slept on his back, he often woke on his stomach.
"How do you feel?" he questioned, sliding into place beside her.
Her back was to him and she didn't wake. He sighed and closed his eyes, unsure if he should wake her or let her sleep until the doctor arrived. For the past three days all she had done was sleep, which he assumed was normal. Every time she was awake she appeared exhausted, and he hated to disturb her for any reason. Most often he laid beside her and watched her sleep, loving this woman and her power of beauty and birth.
"I love you," he whispered. "I love you and I worry about you because I'm selfish and I don't want to be without you. No matter what happens in the world, I need you with me, Corinna."
She didn't stir. He lay down beside her and moved her hair from the back of her neck and kissed her gently. She felt even warmer than before.
Immediately he shot bolt upright and gently shook her by the shoulder. "Corinna?" he said, his voice still low.
She didn't move. In fact, he couldn't hear her breathe. He pressed his fingers to her throat and whispered a word of thanks to God once he found her steady pulse.
"Corinna?" he said, louder than before.
Her lips parted, but she didn't respond to his gentle shaking as it turned rougher, more urgent.
"Wake up. Corinna, you must wake up at once!"
He felt her face and her neck, then her hands. Her flesh burned beneath his, the fire inside of her threatening to consume her. He needed to cool her. Desperately he searched the room until he saw a water basin on a small bedside table.
Erik left her side for only a moment and returned to mop her brow with cool water. She moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that didn't come from his wife, but from the fiery entity inside of her.
"Wake up," he said through his teeth.
Beside her, Sori continued to sleep, oblivious to his panic. He gathered Corinna in his arms and scooted her toward the edge of the bed so he wouldn't dampen and chill the newborn with a splash of water. Over and over he cleansed her skin, working his way from her forehead down to her neck until he'd soaked her nightgown through, and she shivered.
"Christ, open your eyes." He tapped her gently on the cheeks, willed her to obey him for once and look at him. He'd told her it was serious and she hadn't listened. Why wouldn't she listen? He shook her hard, almost violently. Fear turned to rage. He'd be damned if she even thought of allowing a fever to take her. As she shivered and lay limp in his arms, he pressed his lips to her forehead, to the heat on her brow that seemed stronger than before. "Wake. Up. Now."