I
The sun was shining merrily that day, so one could almost forget the bitter February cold. Lunch time made the good people of Colorado Springs leave their respective workplaces to converge towards Grace's Café. The few streets of the small western town were swarming with farmers, rail workers and cowhands.
To watch all these people going to the Café made Michaela Quinn's stomach rumble aggressively. Sully must have heard it too because he rushed to assist her to stand.
"C'mon, let's get outta here and feed the two of ya before everybody starts to think that we got a bear in there and panic," he teased. For once, she decided to ignore her husband's gentle barbs. They were about to get out of the train carriage and others travelers were beginning to stare at the couple with mild annoyance, which made Michaela terribly uncomfortable. The sooner she was seated before a hot meal she didn't have to fix, the better!
"I hate this," she muttered under her breath, watching carefully her steps down the steep degrees.
"It's all right, as long as you remember it won't last ten years."
Michaela's eyes flew to her husband's. The amusement she saw in them barely concealed the ever-present worry. She took the hint this time and smiled reassuringly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Brian, who was trying to prevent a very excited Katie from running to them and risking being knocked over in the constant hustle and bustle of the depot. Eager to hug her children, she made a beeline for the platform, Sully on her heels holding their carpet bag. For a few minutes there was a joyous cluster of hugs and kisses; as soon as her daughter loosened her grip enough for Michaela to breathe again, she asked the boy:
"So, how did it go?"
"Everythin' went fine, Ma," answered Brian. "We really had a good time at Miz Grace and Robert E.'s. And Oliver's real fun to be around! Ya shoulda seen Kates with 'im..."
"Baby, Papa!" piped up Katie.
"Did you take good care of the baby, sweet girl?" Katie nodded eagerly, then puckered her face in a very Michaela-like frown. Sully smirked.
"Where my baby?" demanded the little girl.
Michaela chuckled: "It's still in my tummy, sweetheart, where it'll have to stay for a few more months..."
"Why?"
Michaela and Sully looked at each other wryly and Brian rolled his eyes at his little sister. Katie was going through a "why?" phase, and these days it seemed that her questions only stopped when she was asleep!
"The baby needs to stay in your ma's tummy, so it'll be strong an' healthy when it gets born, ya understand?" explained Sully with amused patience. The little girl nodded again and settled down more comfortably in her father's arms.
"How 'bout we have lunch at Grace's, then get home so you girls can rest?" Sully told his wife.
"Mmmh... good idea. How about mine: tonight you'll fix supper so I'll be well rested to enjoy it?"
"Ya'd do anythin' to avoid cookin', wouldn't ya?"
"You know me too well." Michaela pecked her husband playfully on the lips and climbed down the platform, holding Brian's arm for balance. She was stiff from the train ride and, since her swollen middle did nothing to help, she was really looking forward to lying in her bed, cuddling with her daughter. Oh yes, that sounded wonderful! But first she needed to eat.
* * *
When she went downstairs for dinner that night, Michaela was pleasantly surprised to find that Matthew and Julia would join them for the evening.
The two women were soon engaged in animated chatter about the goings-on in town. Suddenly, Sully interrupted their conversation and asked shrewdly:
"Somethin' on yer mind, Matthew? Or is my cookin' that much worse 'n your ma's?"
"Sully!" Michaela protested half-heartedly, too busy studying Matthew's odd behavior to fire back.
"Er, no Sully, food's all right. It's... it's just..."
"It's just that Matt proposed to me on Valentine's day, of course I said yes, and he's been wondering all that time how to break the news to you!" laughed Julia.
It took but a second for her announcement to sink in before Michaela and Sully got up to congratulate the newly engaged couple. They were both delighted: Julia was such a fine young woman, level-headed, yet with a solid sense of humor. When her father, Dr. Philip Munroe, had moved to Colorado Springs to take over the management of the Springs Chateau Clinic, she had followed him... barely five minutes after getting out of the train, she had bumped into Matthew, and a week later, she was offered a job as librarian by the town council and an invitation to dinner at Grace's from the local attorney. The young man had immediately started rebuilding his homestead, and it was almost ready for a family to move in.
They all spent the rest of the evening discussing the impending nuptials, which would take place in August. The young couple wanted their wedding to be simple. Michaela, having learnt her lesson with Colleen and Andrew, promised not to interfere with their plans, with such solemnity that everyone had to laugh.
It was quite late when the Sully family (minus Katie who had been put to bed earlier) waved good-bye to Matthew and Julia. As soon as the front door was closed, a yawning Brian bid his parents good night and trod wearily upstairs, leaving Michaela and Sully alone.
"You knew about it all along?" asked Michaela.
"Not really. Just had a feelin'. They've been courtin' for months now. So his proposal ain't that surprising."
"On Valentine's day, of all days! Looks like Matthew had a good teacher in romancing," she added with a coy smile, winding her arms around his shoulders, and shivering when she felt his caressing hands at the small of her back.
"Would ya happen t'know who that teacher might be? I could use some pointers to court the lady I've been sweet on for years," bantered Sully.
Michaela played along: "You didn't tell you were sweet on someone. Who is she? Do I know her?"
"You know her all right... It's the lady doctor from Boston. She's so smart an' beautiful, her hair... her smile... and her eyes, I could lose myself in those eyes," he breathed on her neck, just before kissing voluptuously the sensitive spot where her blood was now pulsating wildly.
"Did you... did you tell her about your feelings?" she asked in a dreamy voice.
"Mmmh hummh," was the muffled answer.
"And how did she answer?"
Sully straightened up and looked intensely into her eyes.
"You tell me," he answered huskily.
The game was over.
* * *
Michaela heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. Sully was spooned tightly against her back, slowly catching his breath, as the tension in his body gradually eased. She shivered slightly, still overcome by the pleasurable sensations provided by the heat that was radiating from him, the feel of his hand stroking soothingly her hip and belly, prompting goose bumps to erupt on her skin. She smiled to herself.
"You cold?" breathed Sully in her ear.
"Not in the least... I only feel wonderful." She craned her neck to look at him over her shoulder. In the dim light provided by the fireplace, she caught the familiar twinkle in his eyes that meant more to her that any word. Her smile grew wider.
"Now, who's lookin' pleased with 'emself, huh?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Sully," Michaela answered in mock seriousness, reaching across to draw his mouth to hers. She gingerly twisted around to face him, then kissed him anew, long and deep. Their mutual ardor escalated again, but the sound of a wagon nearing the homestead full speed prompted the couple to break off their embrace. Both knew that only a medical emergency would lead someone here this late in the night. Michaela sat up and reached for her undergarments. She cast an apologetic glance at her husband.
"I'm sorry, Sully."
"Not your fault Michaela, I just don' understand why they don' go to Doc Munroe?"
"Well, I suppose Philip needs my help and he's sending for me."
"That may be so, but it'd better be serious. As a doctor, he should know better than to disturb a pregnant lady when she's sleepin'," he grumbled.
"Hum, we weren't exactly sleeping, Sully," Michaela reminded him, barely stifling a small snort of laughter.
Sully only shrugged sheepishly, then rolled out of bed.
They dressed quickly and went downstairs. Sully opened the door to a disheveled Jake.
"Evenin', Sully... Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Mike, but I think you'd better come. Quick"
"What is it Jake?"
"My neighbors, the Tanners... well, Margaret's havin' her baby! Please hurry, ya can hear her scream for miles 'round."
"Is there someone with her?... beside Mr. Tanner, I mean?"
"Er, no..."
"And Philip? Doctor Munroe?"
"Couldn't find him anywhere, otherwise I wouldn't have come here..."
"Of course. Let's go"
* * *
As the wagon sped towards the Tanners' farm, Jake explained briefly the situation to Michaela. He felt compelled to add: "Vernon didn' want me to come an' fetch ya, but I managed to convince 'im yer Marg's best chance to come outta this alive..."
"I appreciate this, Jake. You did the right thing. Let's just hope we won't be too late!"
They had barely reached the edge of the propriety when they heard a blood-curling scream. Jake spurred the horse harder, so that they stopped in front of the house but two minutes later. A very pale and disapprovingly silent Vernon ushered them to the bedroom from which were coming hoarse, exhausted moans. The door opened to a small pregnant figure sprawled on a tangle of sheets and quilts. There was Margaret, her dark red hair matted with sweat and her pale eyes wild with pain. Michaela reached out to stroke the young woman's brow sympathetically, then sprang into action. She quickly assessed the situation before turning to the two men to state firmly:
"I need to perform a Cesarean Section, Mr. Tanner."
"What's that?"
"I'll have to take the baby out surgically and..."
"Ya mean you're gonna cut her open? No, no, ya got no right!"
"Mr. Tanner, please, it's their best chance," pleaded Michaela. She cast a glance at Jake, who immediately took the hint.
"Listen here, Vern, Dr. Mike's done this dozens of times. Why don't ya go take a breath out, then come back when it's over. You'll see, in no time you'll have that baby o'yours in your arms. Everything gonna be all right..."
Vernon looked one last time at his writhing wife, nodded briefly and exited. Both physician and barber let out a relieved sigh.
"Thank you, Jake. I'm not sure I would have gone through him if you hadn't been here."
"No charge. Ya need anythin', Dr. Mike?"
"Hmm, yes. Could you bring in a basin of warm water and as much towels as you can find, please? Then you'll help me with the surgery."
Jake looked askance at her for a second. Obviously, he had not expected to actually help with the delivery, but to his credit, he did not protest and went diligently about his task.
A few minutes later, Jake came back with a kettle and a basketful of cloths, to find that Michaela had settled the mother-to-be more comfortably and was explaining the procedure to her:
"... now I'm going to put you to sleep, so I can take the baby without hurting either of you. Are you ready?" Already groggy with hours of agonizing and fruitless contractions, poor Margaret managed to flutter her eyelids in assent. Michaela glanced briefly over her shoulder. "Jake?" she called softly. The barber went to her side and waited for her instructions:
"I want you to give her chloroform," said Michaela as she handed him the anaesthetic and a cloth. "Next you'll take the child and clean it while I stitch her up, all right?" Jake nodded and the pair set out to work. It took only a few moments before she lifted the bloody infant from its mother's womb to place it onto the cloth Jake was presenting. As she was closing the incision, she strained her ears to catch the first cry of the baby. When it didn't came forth, she asked Jake to put his little finger into the baby's mouth to dislodge any mucus that might obstruct its windpipe. There was a small gurgling sound, then a feeble cough, but not yet a cry. Michaela tied the last stitch, cleaned the area again, hastily wiped her hands on a cloth and took the newborn from Jake. She searched for a pulse, found it, then worked on getting the baby to breathe: holding it securely by the heels, she struck firmly the small buttocks. The baby let forth another cough, followed by some kind of mewing. Well, the baby was breathing, yet there was something wrong, but Michaela could not quite pinpoint it.
"Why don't you go and find Mr. Tanner. Tell him he has a son, and that his wife is going to be all right," she told Jake, while cleaning the baby more thoroughly.
"And the baby?"
"I still need to examine him, but I think he will be fine, too."
"'Right. Call me if you need anythin'." Jake closed the door, leaving Michaela with her patients.
While she was wiping away the last traces of blood and vernix from the baby's face, she noticed how listless he was. Most infants protested heartily with the cleaning process, or at least whimpered, but this one did not make a sound. She took a closer look, to ascertain the infant was not suffering from hypoxia. He appeared a bit jaundiced, but there were no signs of oxygen depravation. But what struck her the most were his features. His face was flat, with slanting eyes, and given the yellowish tinge of the skin, it did not take long to Michaela to put two and two together: the baby suffered very probably from the condition which had been known as Mongolism for the last few years. She frowned, unsure of what she should tell the Tanners. She wished Philip had been there, if only for advice. Ever since they had started working together, she had come to rely on him more and more often, whether to assist with delicate surgery, to discuss cases and new treatments, or… lately, to take care of emergencies at night. More than an esteemed colleague, he had become a trusted and caring friend to her and her family, insisting almost as adamantly as Sully on cutting down her hours at the Clinic and rest as much as she could…
Michaela knew she had to tell the Tanners about their son's state of health, and prepare them for whatever might happen in the years to come. She was tempted to postpone the confrontation until she could ask Philip for his opinion, wishing he would disagree with her diagnosis, yet knowing he would only concur. She had seen enough cases, of this particular syndrome as well as other malformations, when working in the asylums and orphanages of Boston: countless of sickly, crippled children, left there because parents could not assume their offspring's handicap. Since she had moved in Colorado, there had been a lot less of cases, but she knew all too well that people's reaction would not be much different here from what she had witnessed before: fear, rejection… what had happened to Zack Lawson was enough proof of that.
Michaela cast a glance at Margaret, who was still unconscious. How would she react? And Vernon? He certainly did not seem the most tolerant kind of person. As she checked her patient's vital signs, a dark feeling of dread uncoiled in her heart. The baby stirred a little, mewing feebly again when she swaddled him in a blanket. The poor thing deserved his parents' love and care, of that she was sure. It was her duty to convince them of this simple truth.
A discreet knock distracted her from her musings.
"Dr. Mike? Is it all right for Vernon to come in?" Jake asked through the door.
Michaela gulped: she felt ill-prepared to face the new father, yet she understood his longing to see his wife and child. With the baby tucked securely in the crook of her arm, she summoned a reassuring smile for the two men and opened the bedroom door.
"Ready to meet your son, Mr. Tanner?" she asked with studied cheerfulness, while feeling bad for acting as if everything was fine. She held out the baby to Vernon, making sure the head was properly supported. The infant emitted small grunts of protest, but quieted again in his father's arms. Vernon's face was a picture: his previous sullen demeanor had all but disappeared, and he was now looking down at his baby with an expression of pure rapture.
"Do you have a name for him?" Michaela inquired gently, moved as always by the sight of a new father and his child meeting for the first time. For a few seconds, she could put out of her mind the painful task still ahead, and savor a -brief- moment of peace.
"Yea, we're gonna call him Thomas, after my Pa", Vernon answered reverently. As he looked straight at her, she could discern an awed shine in his eyes. She sighed inwardly, feeling worse by the minute: why was it up to her to break such sad news and shatter the new-found happiness of this family?
"How's Marg?" he added, glancing toward the bed.
"She's all right, she should come around soon," Michaela reassured him.
Vernon, eager to get a better look at his son, pulled back the blanket a little. His features constricted in a bewildered scowl as he took in the unusual appearance of the little human being nestled in his arms. He looked up again, silently asking for an answer to his unspeakable question. Bracing herself for the now inevitable explanations, Michaela motioned Jake out. The barber seemed to understand that something was wrong and that she needed to talk to Vernon in private. He nodded in acknowledgement and slipped out of the room unobtrusively.
Michaela took a deep breath and began:
"I'd like to speak with you, Mr. Tanner, about your son…"
"My son? It can't mine, it looks like some Chink! Here, take it," he protested, thrusting the now whimpering baby into her arms. Trying not to let his reaction faze her, Michaela accepted silently to hold the baby, so he would be safe from his father's impending wrath.
"The way he looks has nothing to do with him being Chinese. I think Thomas is suffering from a disease known as Mongolism, and his appearance is a symptom of what's ailing him," Michaela detailed.
"You're tellin' me he's sick?"
"Yes."
"It is catchin'?"
"No."
"Can you fix him?" Vernon's voice had risen to a high, strain-pitched tone.
"I'm afraid no one can cure him. This syndrome is a combination of congenital malformations, some of which could be lethal… deadly, I mean."
"He's gonna die?"
"Well, right now his vital signs are all within normal range, so he might live for a few years…" You must tell him, urged the voice of her conscience. "But I must warn you that if Thomas indeed lives, he will also suffer from mental deficiency." There. She told him.
"You mean he's an idiot?" Michaela flinched at the use of the offensive term. Yet there was no denying it: the poor child would probably never be able to lead a normal life, going to school, working, having a family on his own. He would need constant care and tutelage. Unable to answer yes to his rhetorical question, she averted her eyes and whispered "I'm sorry."
Now, Vernon's face was white with shock. It was obvious that he was beginning to realize the tremendous burden that was placed on his shoulders. She needed to ensure against his doing something desperate. To buy herself some time to discuss this with Philip and maybe come up with an solution, she thought to ask Jake to stay with the Tanners. The Mayor seemed to be in goods terms with his neighbors, maybe he could provide them with some comfort. As soon as Margaret awoke, she would go to the Chateau. Maybe Philip knew more about this syndrome than she did…. As if on cue, the young woman started mumbling, then her eyes fluttered open.
"My… baby," she croaked, still half-drugged.
"Marg!" Vernon rushed to his wife's side.
"Is it a boy, Sugar?"
"…" Vernon looked totally out of his depth. Michaela's heart went out to the poor man. Sensing she had to step in, she put her hand lightly on his shoulder and answered for him:
"Yes, you have a boy, Mrs. Tanner… How do you feel?"
"Aww… don't know…" Margaret fell back on the pillow with a moan, eyes closed. Vernon panicked again.
"What's wrong with her?"
"It's all right, Mr. Tanner," Michaela tried to placate him. "Your wife's just been through a terrible ordeal, a long and painful labor and, on top of that, a Caesarean. She needs to rest a lot to recover."
"What am I gonna tell her? How can I tell her our baby is… not 'normal'?" He looked down at Margaret, who was sleeping peacefully, unsuspecting of the tragedy she would have to face. Vernon was shaking his head and muttering "Why?" over and over to himself.
Michaela was reluctant to leave them, yet there was nothing much she could do, except monitoring the conditions of both mother and child. She left the bedside for a moment and went out of the room, little Thomas fast asleep in her arms.
"Jake?" she called softly, spotting him outside. Jake had been sitting under the porch, fighting sleep. She saw him jump in his seat.
"Huh?"
"Could you please go back to town and see if Philip is there? If he is, please ask him to come at once," she requested with as much calm as she could muster. Jake opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned around. The next minute she heard the rumble of the wagon slowly dwindle into the stillness of the night. Going back to the bedroom, she laid the infant down in the hand-hewn crib that stood in the corner opposite the master bed. With her back to the Tanners, she surreptitiously touched her growing belly. A faint movement from deep within her answered the soft caress. Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer, asking for strength, for everyone in the room. Then she returned to Margaret's side, and began waiting.