The Deathbed Promise

Chapter Six—…It Couldn't Be. It Just Couldn't

AN: Sorry for the wait. Had to celebrate my Daddy's birthday. And my daughter's school keeps asking her money. It was pictures, field trip, dance, pictures again and now a yearbook. She's only in second grade. I need to work just so I don't go broke from that school.

This chapter is a hard chapter. You may not like the route I go with this. I'm not sure if I like it, but I look at the following chapters and I am pleased how this story turns out.

I have to issue a warning. This chapter deals with miscarriage. If this not something you are not comfortable reading about, please skip this chapter. I will give a brief summary in chapter 7 so you wouldn't miss anything. Here is the chapter. I will see you at the end.

Dinner that evening was a strain. Bella sat down at the table in fear that Emmett would say something to Elizabeth or Maria about finding her up a ladder, dusting.

But he didn't.

Frankly. He hardly said a word all through the meal, eating his food in a darkly brooding silence, his mind obviously a million miles away. Whenever his mother or Maria spoke to him, he seemed to have to drag his thoughts back to the present with a real effort. His answers to their innocent questions about his trip away were curt and largely uninformative.

Bella knew why. There hadn't been any business conducted. Emmett had gone to the Gold Coast for one reason and one reason only.

Her appetite for the food in front of her dwindled as she contemplated that reason, wondering how long it would be before he took himself off again. Once, she glanced sideways down the table at him, and their eyes met. He looked right through her, then back down at his dessert.

Bella was glad when Emmett took his coffee into the study.

"Couldn't have been a very successful trip," Maria muttered as she and Bella cleared the plated away. Elizabeth had already scuttled off to her bedroom to read.

Bella didn't know what to say to that, knowing it was the altercation with her that had put him in such a bad mood. His trip to the Gold Coast had undoubtly been very successful. "Maybe he's just tired," she muttered, hating the disturbingly explicit images that kept popping into her mind.

"Then he should stop burning the candle at both ends," Maria said sharply. "The man doesn't get enough sleep. And he drinks too much. I checked the liquor stocks in his study while he was away, and there was hardly a drop of whiskey left, not to mention brandy, vodka and cognac. I hope he's not going the way of his father. Edward drank too much in the years preceding his death. Put on too much weight too. Sixty was far too young to die in my opinion."

"My father was only thirty-nine when he died of a heart attack," Bella said, gulping down the lump that formed in her throat whenever she thought of her father.

"Yes, I remember you telling me that," Maria mused. "That was young, Bella. And your mother was how old when she died?"

"Thirty-eight."

"How sad for you."

Bella scooped in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes, it was," she agreed, then busied herself, stacking up the rest of the dishes.

That night, once again, Bella had trouble falling asleep. There was a dull throbbing behind her eyes and she had a slight tummy upset. On top of that, she was also perturbed over the run-in she'd had with Emmett.

He was right, of course, she'd begun to appreciate. She had no right to judge him over the private and personal side of his life. What in heaven's name did she expect him to do? He was a man in his prime. Only thirty-two, for pity's sake. Healthy. Handsome. Full of energy and drive and hormones.

A man of Anthony's nature might have been able to embrace celibacy without it disturbing his equilibrium too much—clearly he had!—but his younger brother was a different bottle of soda entirely. Emmett had obviously always been a big winner where the opposite sex was concerned, with a strong libido to match. He wouldn't be used to doing without in the bedroom.

When Bella finally began to drift off to sleep, she was wondering exactly what kind of woman Emmett was attracted to. Did she have to be tall, blonde, shapely, sophisticated?

He was sure to like tall women, she decided with a yawn.

Bella's last fuzzy thought was a resolve to ask Maria in the morning exactly what Irina had looked like, even though an image already forming in her mind, that of a tall, sexy creature with come-hither blue eyes, a mane of perfectly styled blonde hair, a model-perfect figure and long, long shapely legs that went on forever, nothing like a five-foot-two half-Italian brunette with big brown doe-eyes, long wavy unstyled hair, and a figure far too curvy for her height.

Bella woke up with the pain.

For a few seconds she was disoriented, not sure what was wrong till another cramp twisted at her insides. Her groan echoed her horror, and disbelief. No, no, it couldn't be. It just couldn't.

She lay there in denial for another minute or two, till more cramps forced her to crawl out of bed and into the bathroom where her worst nightmare revealed. Her underwear was spotted with blood.

"Dear God, no," she cried, her hands shaking as she stuffed a few tissues into her pants then made her way slowly back into the bedroom, hunching over with the pain. The bedside clock showed two-fifteen. Everyone would be in bed, sound asleep, at this late hour.

Bella began to panic. What was she to do? She would have to wake someone. She needed help.

It would have to be Maria. Elizabeth took sleeping tablets every night and was impossible to rouse once they'd taken effect. Emmett she refused to consider. She could not bear to see the accusing look in his eyes when she told him what was happening. He would think it was her fault somehow. She just knew he would.

No, it would have to be Maria.

The trouble was that Maria slept in her own flat behind the garages, quite some distance away.

Another pain ripped through Bella, stronger, sharper. It propelled her across the room and out into the upstairs hallways. Arms across and hugging her stomach, she made her way slowly to the top of stairs, her discomfort increasing. She has occasionally had periods, but this was sheer torture, the physical discomfort made worse by her emotional distress.

She was going to lose Anthony's baby.

As she started to creep down the stairs—each step an agony—total despair was kept at bay with some straw-grasping thoughts. Maybe there was still some hope. Maybe she wouldn't really miscarry. Maybe a doctor could give her an injection or something to stop what was happening.

When Bella reached the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to see that the light was on under the study door. Emmett was still up. Suddenly, another cramping pain struck. It felt like a hot dagger being plunged in her belly and she couldn't stop crying out loud.

The study door was wrenched open and a bedraggled, bleary-eyed Emmett stood there, staring at her. If she'd been capable of noticing the appalling physical state he was in, she might have stared at him in return. But the pain was dulling her mind and tears blurring her eyes. It was taking all of Bella's strength to remain standing. The urge to simply sink down on to the floor was intense.

Emmett's eyes widen in her pale, pain-filled face and he took a hesitant step out into the hallway. "What is it, Bella?" he demanded hoarsely. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I'm bleeding," she said, her words coming out in a shaky whisper.

"Bleeding?" he repeated rather blankly.

"Yes," she said, and a moan of pain punched from her throat. The tears which had been threatening suddenly spilled over and started running down her cheeks. "Oh, Emmett," she cried, her voice raw with pain. "I think I'm losing Anthony's baby!"

For a second he seemed struck dumb, but then Bella began to double up with the pain and he raced forward, scooping her up high into his arms, then enfolding her hard against him.

"No you're not," he growled out. "Not if I can help it." And he began carrying her back up the stairs.

With a sob she wrapped her arms tightly around him and pressed her wet cheeks against the warm expanse of his chest. "Don't be angry with me," she choked out as he angled her through the doorway of her bedroom. "I didn't do anything silly. Truly I didn't."

"No, of course you didn't," he agreed thickly, throwing her an anguished look as he laid her gently on the bed and pulled the quilt over her. "Is the bleeding very bad?"

"Not too bad," she said, trying not to thresh about. But the pain was getting worse, if that was possible.

"I'm going to call your doctor," Emmett told her. "I don't suppose you know his number."

She shook her head. "Not off by heart," she bit out, clenching her teeth hard. "But I…I wrote it down in the telephone book on the hall table…under G for Gerandy."

"I'll go and call."

Bella didn't want him to leave her, but she knew he had to. The next five minutes were interminable. Her eyes were glued to the opened doorway, her pain-racked body relaxing a little when Emmett returned. He came to her across the carpet with brisk, efficient strides, sitting down and taking her hands soothingly in his. How strong he was, she realized somewhat dazedly. And how kind. She'd been so wrong about him. So very wrong.

"Please don't be alarmed," be begun gently, "but Dr. Gerandy wants you in the hospital. He's sending an ambulance straight away and will meet you there. They'll be here shortly. I've woken Maria. She's getting dressed. She's going to go with you."

"Can't you come with me?" she asked tremulously.

He seemed taken aback by her request. "You want me to come with you?"

Her eyes swam. "Yes. I think I'd be braver with you. Please promise me you'll come. Promise me you won't leave me. Promise."

His hands tightened around hers. "I promise."

Bella closed her eyes with a shuddering sigh. "Thank you," she whispered.

She lost the baby. And Emmett did have to leave her eventually.

But he was sitting there in her hospital room when she was brought back in from recovery a couple hours later, rising to his feet as she was wheeled in, watching in grim silence as she was lifted into her bed and made comfortable before the doctor and the nurse left the room.

"You should have gone home, Emmett," were her first quivering words once they were alone. "You must be awfully tired."

"Tired I can live with, Isabella," he said. "But a promise is a promise." He dragged a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. "I wouldn't have been able to sleep if I'd gone home, anyway. How are you feeling?"

Her shoulders lifted in a resigned shrug. "Alright, I guess."

"Don't keep on trying to be brave, sweetheart. If you want to cry, cry. I won't mind. I feel like crying myself."

Surprised eyes slid over to his. "You, Emmett?"

He did, indeed, look very bleak. Not only bleak but disheveled, she realized. Her gaze travelled slowly over him, from his creased clothes to his stubbly chin to his bloodshot eyes.

"I know," he said wearily, and ran a hand back through his messy hair. "I look terrible."

"You look exhausted. You really should go home."

"No," he said firmly. "I'm staying."

A short silence fell between them and Bella closed her eyes, swamped by depression. The overwhelming feeling that she had somehow let Anthony down would not leave her. Perhaps she should have warned the doctor about her mother's medical history. Maybe if she had, this could have been prevented. The fear that she might have inherited her mother's inability to carry a child full-term brought a low whimper of distress.

"I hope you don't blame yourself for this."

Bella's eyes fluttered open at Emmett's stern words. She shrugged again, unable to deny or confirm what she was feeling. Was it guilt? Or despair?

"I spoke to the doctor earlier," Emmett went on, "and he said this is nature's way when there's something wrong with the development of the fetus. He said he'd had a niggling concern during your last visit that something was wrong, which is why he ordered an ultrasound. But he didn't say anything for fear of worrying you."

"My mother was a habitual aborter," she said unhappily. "Maybe I'm the same."

"I doubt that Isabella."

"But I might be." The thought terrified her, for she'd always wanted lots of children.

"Don't jump to conclusions. Ask the doctor when you see him again."

"Alright," she sighed, and fell wretchedly silent again.

"Tell me about your mother, Isabella," Emmett asked after awhile. "All I know is that she died shortly before you came to live with Anthony. He also said something about how your stepfather had tried to force you to marry him. Is that right?"

She nodded. "He was Italian too, my stepfather. My real father wasn't. He was Australian. Mum met him when she was at school. He was her English teacher."

"I'll bet her parents didn't like that."

"Her parents were dead, killed in an earthquake back in Italy. She'd been sent out here to Australia to live with an aunt and uncle. Apparently she was a bit of a rebel, and they were never able to control her much."

"Anyway, she married Dad the year after so left school and I was born nine months after the wedding. It seems something went wrong with Mum's uterus when I was born. When she had two miscarriages after me, the doctors told her not to try anymore, that it was dangerous."

"But she did?"

"Not with my real Dad. But after he died unexpectedly of a coronary, she married Phil. That's when we moved to the farm outside of Lithgow. Phil wanted a son. He was a very good-looking man, but very traditional in his Italian ways. Poor Mum tried to have a baby every year, and every year she lost it. I used to argue with my stepfather about how it was killing her, trying to give him his precious son.

"One day, when I was sixteen and Mum had just had her fifth miscarriage, he and I had a really big argument. He said women were for having bambinos and that if my mother couldn't give him one then he would find a younger woman who could. Out of the blue he…he tried to…to….you know. I fought him off and grabbed a knife and told him if he ever came near me again, I'd kill him."

"I'd like to kill the bastard myself," Emmett growled. "Did he ever try again?"

"Not till Mum died. And even then, he didn't try to force me to go to bed with him. His idea by then was that I marry him first. When I said I'd rather die, he locked me in my bedroom, boarded up the window and told me I wasn't going to get any food and water till I came to my senses."

"What did you do?"

"It took me all night but I managed to work a couple of boards off the windows, climbed out and went racing to Anthony. He lived next door, you know."

"Yes, I know. What did Anthony do?"

"He told me I could move in with him till I knew what I wanted to do with my life, so I did."

"What did your stepfather do then? Surely he must have done something!"

"He came storming over, ranting and raving, but my Anthony was magnificent." Bella smiled widely at the memory. "He had this old rifle which didn't even work but Phil didn't know that. He pointed straight at Phil's head and told him if he ever came near me again, he'd splatter his brains from there to Lithgow."

"Good Lord! Anthony did that?"

"He sure did."

"The power of love," Emmett muttered. "So what happened next?"

"Phil sold up the farm and moved to Melbourne. I haven't heard from him since."

"I dare say you haven't missed him."

"Hardly."

Emmett began shaking his head. "I still can't believe it. Anthony…my meek and mild brother, actually physically threatening someone."

Bella's smile was rueful. "Maybe I should tell you what happened after Phil left…"

"Maybe you should."

"Anthony fainted dead away. I had to carry him inside and put him in bed."

Emmett's nod was as dry as his voice. "Now that's more like the Anthony I knew and loved."

Bella's heart turned over and she looked at Emmett, her eyes blurring suddenly. "You did love him, didn't you?"

"Very much."

"He loved you too, Emmett."

"I hope so, Isabella. I hope so."

"He was a very special man."

"Very special."

"And he's gone," she cried softly. "And his baby's gone. There's nothing left for people to remember him by. It's not fair. It's just not fair…"

"Life was never fair to Anthony," Emmett agreed with a weary sigh.

"I loved him so much."

"Yes…I know."

"I'll never forget him."

"Yes…I know."

The utter desolation in Emmett's voice pricked at her conscience. He was suffering too. She should try not to be so maudlin. Anthony would not have liked her to be maudlin. He hated dreariness in any way, shape or form. And hatred. Anthony always said it was a pity human beings could not all love one another, no matter what.

She reached over and picked up the nearest of Emmett's hands, the unexpected action sending his eyes jerking up to hers. "Don't be sad, Emmett," she soothed. "If there's one thing that has come out of this, it's that we've become friends. Look, I haven't even stammered one tonight and I'm not at all angry with you."

He simply stared at her, so hard and long that she began to feel self-conscious. And then it hit her. She was no longer having Anthony's baby. There was no longer any reason for her to be welcome in the Masen home. Their friendship had come a little too late.

She extracted her hand from his, a sharp pang of dismay jabbing at her heart.

"What is it?" Emmett snapped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…"

"Don't give me that, Isabella. Your face is an open book. What's suddenly worrying you?"

"I…I was wondering what I was going to do now?" she admitted unhappily. "Where I was going to live?"

"Why, you'll go on living at Masen Mansion, of course!"

"There's no of course about it, Emmett. All my reasons for coming to live with you are gone. All your reasons for marrying are gone."

"What nonsense you speak." He stood up and began pacing around the room, clearly agitated. At last he ground to a halt, glaring over at her. Yesterday, she might have quailed under such a dark scowl. But now she knew Emmett was nothing like she'd originally imagined. Underneath the bear lived a teddy bear. Underneath the hard shell lay a tender heart.

"Mother would have my hide if you didn't come back to live with us. So would Maria. You light up the house, Isabella. You're like a spring day after the gloom of winter. You will not leave us. I demand it!"

Bella blinked her astonishment at Emmett's passionate and almost poetic outburst.

"We will find you a job when you're fully recovered," he swept on. "Or, if you'd prefer, you might want to go to an university and study something. Have you passed your HSC?"

Bella nodded, though her pass was nothing to write home about. She might have done better if Phil hadn't kept her away from school so much to help on the farm. She'd had more days off than anyone else in her class.

"That's settled then. I don't want to hear any more of this leaving nonsense. You must think me a heartless bastard if you would imagine I would set you out at such a time. Good lord, Isabella, have some compassion for me before ever suggesting such a thing again. Think of what Esme would do if she found out? My life wouldn't be worth living!"

Bella gave him a watery smile which ended in a yawn, followed by a shuddering sigh of exhaustion.

Emmett groaned. "I'm being selfish, raving on when you must be dying to go to sleep. I was just trying to take your mind off things. You should have told me to shut up and get lost."

She managed another weak smile. "Shut up and get lost."

He smiled, then came forward and bent over her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Go to sleep now," he murmured. "And don't worry. I'll look after you. I promised Anthony."

"One more thing, Emmett," Bella said sleepily. "Call me Bella."

There you have it. This was a hard chapter to write. And it wasn't fun. You did get to know Bella's history and how she came to live with Anthony. Bella and Emmett did get closer in her time of need.

The next chapter will have a bit of a time jump in it. I want to get you to where the prologue is. Good news: we are about there. I think it's two chapters. Chapter 7 will have why Emmett and Irina marriage fell apart and why he kinda is the way he is. But for that to happen, please review. I really want your thoughts on this chapter.