Shringaar10

Erik felt as though he'd walked into a tomb. Corinna lay in shadows, the heavy curtains drawn to keep out the summer heat. The thick air clung to him, heavy and filled with sickness. He placed Sori into her bassinette and winced as her head rolled to the side. Thankfully she remained asleep, and he walked away from her in order to open the window and allow fresh air into the room. Even with the curtains drawn he perspired from the heat gathering on the upper floor and refusing to circulate. Bad air, he thought, the root of disease. He'd brewed the contents for her death in the very room she'd given new life.

The breeze, though more like a hot breath than wind, cooled the exposed half of his face. Children played on the street, groups of youngsters weaving between horses and carriages and people with wheelbarrows and carts. He watched only for a moment, soaking in the life before him which barely existed within the bedroom.

"Oh, God," he whispered.

In five years, perhaps, he imagined standing before this window with his arm around Corinna as they watched Sori play. It had been a fantasy of his, though he'd imagined a little boy, not a little girl angel, tucked in his arms. He'd forgotten that he'd wanted a son, forgotten that when Corinna's belly had swelled he'd imagined that she carried a boy. A daughter had come as a complete surprise. No wonder she had already stolen his heart; he hadn't seen her coming.

When he turned, he saw Darika on her knees by Corinna's bedside. She held a damp cloth in her hand and prepared to sponge Corinna's face.

"Don't," he barked. "Don't you dare!"

"She's very warm."

"Don't kill her!" he yelled, storming forward. His voice trembled with rage, with his own stupidity for not closing the door after he had entered the room.

The big man at her side stepped forward and blocked him. "She's incapable of killing spiders," he said with surprising calm. "I doubt she'll attempt to kill your wife."

Erik struggled to get past the human mountain, and watched as Darika gently placed the rag onto Corinna's forehead and spoke softly to her, explaining something he couldn't hear. Corinna groaned, her lips chapped and her limbs barely able to move.

"For God's sake, don't hurt her," he begged.

Darika ignored him and carefully pushed Corinna's damp hair back from her face. "She's a beautiful little girl, Mrs. Levesque, the most beautiful newborn I've ever seen. She takes after you, doesn't she? A petite little thing. She'll have many men lined up to ask for her hand one day, won't she?"

Corinna made another noise, a sound more suited for a beast than his wife. He couldn't tell what she said—if it was meant to be a word. All he knew was that it sounded like panic.

"I must go to her," he said, pulling back from Alin, who no longer attempted to hold him still.

"Then go to her," Alin replied.

"Her clothes are soaked," Darika said as Erik towered over her. He felt he should do something, though it seemed Darika was the more capable of the two of them. "Is it from sweat?"

"I bathed her," he said. "To bring the fever down."

She nodded, but didn't look at him. "It was too much at once," she said. "Good intentions, however."

But you almost killed her because you have no idea how to care for anyone, let alone yourself, you worthless fool, he could almost hear her say.

"The doctor hasn't come yet?"

"He's…there's…no, he hasn't. He's busy with someone else. It's been hours since I sent for him."

"Did he help other women through their pains the night your daughter was born?"

"I have no idea," he said. He sank onto the bed beside Corinna. Only a week had passed, but he couldn't recall what the doctor had said or done. He wasn't even sure it was the same person attending. Lack of sleep and stress kept him unraveled, while one look at Corinna kept him from falling apart. She needed him. "I don't remember who it was or where he'd been that day."

She nodded sympathetically. "You weren't in the room."

"I wasn't in the house," he said mechanically. "I was on the porch, in the back."

I was alone, he wanted to say.

"Yes, well, I doubt men will ever be invited to see their child being born." Her cheeks reddened and she cleared her throat. "What I was going to say is that I've seen it before when several women all have their babies at once and the same person attends all of the births. It seems that many became ill with burning fevers, vomiting, all sorts of terrible colds. Perhaps that is what happened to Mrs. Levesque."

"I need to know what must be done, not what caused this," he snapped.

She stared at him, her eyes hardened. "Yes, that is understandable."

He lowered his gaze. "I want her to wake up," he said, unable to apologize, unwilling to ask for forgiveness. "I cannot change what happened to her, but I need to help her now."

"Make certain the doctor washes his hands before he touches your wife," Darika said firmly. "Lister would be horrified by this."

She rose and stood beside Alin. "Turn the rag over every few minutes, but don't soak her with cold water or she'll begin to shiver, which will make her fever worse."

"I know," he answered. Because I've already done that.

"I'll make her something to drink."

Erik nodded and turned to face Corinna. He turned the rag over and felt a spark of hope when her breath hissed past her lips.

"Does she like garlic?" Darika asked. "It's very good for these sorts of things."

"Then bring it at once."

-o-

He looked at his wife with such tenderness that Darika couldn't bear to think of Mrs. Levesque dying. She'd understood the moment she looked at him that his life was intertwined with the mother of his child and that without her, he wouldn't be the same man.

She wondered who he'd be, and it frightened her. Not a good person, she thought, not a man anyone would want to know.

"You blame the doctor?" Alin questioned as he followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"You wouldn't?" she countered.

"I've only seen horses and other various barnyard animals give birth. I honestly have no idea."

"You remember meeting Mr. Lister, don't you?"

He nodded.

"And you remember what he said?"

"Vaguely."

"I will bet you all the fish in the sea that this doctor did not bother to wash his hands between the births."

"The fish aren't yours to give, and even if they were, how do you know if he had enough time? Perhaps he wanted to wash but couldn't."

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped. She stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked around for a tea kettle. "That isn't an excuse for killing an innocent woman."

"Do you think she will die?"

She turned around and shushed him. "Don't put the idea into the air," she said furiously as she pumped water into a tea kettle.

"Darika, do you realize what will happen if this woman dies? What will happen to you if that man thinks it was your doing?"

"I'm not concerned for myself," she answered firmly.

"Well, I am. It's my duty."

"Then you worry about me. I'll worry about Mr. and Mrs. Levesque."

"Darika, if you don't think it's possible for her to survive then you need to tell him at once. He'll blame you for his wife's death if she doesn't manage to live through today. You understand that, don't you?"

"Must you be negative?" she snapped.

"I'm being realistic."

"I don't need realistic. I need your help. Now, start the water boiling. The faster we give her something to drink, the better."