Michaela arrived by her bedroom door, and, seeing it ajar, immediately suspected Brian to be the culprit. "Brian Cooper, you know you're not allowed to play in," Michaela stopped mid sentence when she saw the head of long, blond hair.
"Just me, Dr Mike," she was lying diagonally across the bed, her head towards the window, engrossed in a new-found book. "Sorry," she closed the book with a snap, "Brian and Penelope," she emphasized the little girl's name very snootily, as Rebecca's daughter had when she'd talked with Colleen earlier that evening, "are playing in her room. Weren't nowhere else that was quiet," she groaned, "people everywhere in this house."
"It's fine. I know, somehow, home didn't ever feel this cramped. Even if, as Brian says, it's smaller than Penny's bedroom." Michaela smiled and sat on the edge of the bed with an uncomfortable sigh.
"Yeah, could read other places, outside, the meadow, the creek. No matter how many people there were, was always a way to be on your own if ya needed to be," she trailed her fingers around the gold writing of the front of the dark green leather book.
"What are you reading?" Michaela indicated the book, genuinely interested.
"Little Women, found it downstairs," Colleen pulled herself into a sitting position and slid to the edge of the bed, the opposite side form Michaela.
"You don't have to go, Colleen. Stay and read?" Michaela gestured to the middle of the bed where the girl had been lying.
"Rather see what Matthew's doing," she deliberately avoided looking at Michaela, as she got up and paced around the end of the bed.
"Colleen, I know you're angry with me. Please, talk to me," Michaela reached to grasp the girl's wrist as she crossed the room towards the door, however, Colleen managed to pull it away just in time.
"Talking never does any good. Tried that before. You'll just do what you like, doesn't matter what I think." She opened the door, hesitating just long enough to catch Michaela's reply.
"I'm sorry, Colleen," Michaela sighed, feeling the young girl's anger all the way across the room.
"Save it, Dr Mike. Save it for the people you've actually hurt; Brian, Sully. Tell your baby you're sorry once you've finally killed it. Don't bother with me." Colleen shut the door loudly behind her, and stomped noisily away towards the stairs.
Michaela heard the girl's footsteps fade, as if in slow motion. She was sick of the guilt. She knew she'd behaved dreadfully to Colleen these past few months; forced her to deceive her family and friends, expected her to undertake responsibilities she was too young to understand.
Michaela knew Colleen's anger was only a response to fear. From their conversation weeks ago on the bridge, Michaela knew she disapproved of her planned actions. She could only imagine how furious the girl had been when she'd not only left the next day, but taken Brian as well.
As hurt as she felt by Colleen's harsh words, Michaela couldn't blame her for them. Her strict morality was a great asset. It made Colleen fight for the things she believed in; made her an individual. Michaela knew it was this character and determination that would get her through medical school. Was that ever going to happen now?
Please, please don't let her abandon her dream, just because she's angry with me.
Michaela was pulled from her thoughts, by a gentle rocking sensation across the front of her stomach. After the traumatic events of the day, there was something almost comforting in the feeling having returned. It wasn't that she allowed herself to dwell on the concept of a 'baby', more that she was content to reassure herself that 'nothing has changed'. She glanced outside to the almost pitch-black sky. It was too early to go to sleep. But she was tired. Sliding further up the bed, Michaela rolled onto her right side, and allowed herself several moments of rest. Her eyes dropped closed every now and then, until she spotted her medical bag, on the floor by the dressing table. She'd not seen it in days. For a moment, she realized she'd actually forgotten about it and the thought bothered her.
Pushing herself up from the bed, Michaela fetched the bag and brought it back next to her. Opening it, she rummaged through the contents; nothing more than a pair of tweezers, two bandages, and her stethoscope. She ran the tips of her fingers along the metal earpieces, and down the tubing to the bell.
She felt professional pride wash over her, like heat from a warm fire on a cold night. She still had that. Didn't she?
Michaela tried to recall the distorted conversations she'd had with William at the hospital the previous week. Most of it was a blur. He would have told her if she'd had her license revoked? She frowned, knowing she probably needed to clear some of those vague details up, if she was to be returning to Colorado Springs.
Home.
Over thirty years of my life has been here. I don't know if I'm ready to leave again. I don't know if it's right.
Lost in her thoughts, Michaela had the stethoscope in her ears, before she realized it; the bell held loosely in her right hand. She looked down at the black end, pressing it quickly to her chest, finding her own heartbeat effortlessly. Perfect, at approximately seventy beats per minute, Michaela estimated.
She let the bell drop from her chest, as she went to pull the instrument from her ears. As she did, she glanced down. She was curious, albeit in a detached way.
Michaela, it's just double your own, just a bit faster. You've heard many of them before.
She nodded several times, allowing the wisdom in her rationalization to halt her impulsivity. Michaela opened her medical bag again, and was about to drop the stethoscope in, when she felt a stronger fluttering movement, this time to the right of her lower abdomen.
It's almost like it's talking to me. How does it know when I'm thinking about it. Will you just listen to yourself! You're a doctor, you know that's absolutely ridiculous.
She cleared her throat and stuffed the instrument back into the black leather bag very quickly.
There, gone. I know, just a coincidence.
As she dropped the medical bag to the floor beside her, Michaela felt the gentle movement return again. This time, she allowed her right hand to seek out the spot. She couldn't feel anything; just the firmness of her rounded stomach. She settled herself back comfortably against the array of large pillows behind her, moving the tips of her fingers slowly over the material of her skirt. She became distracted in her thoughts, her hand resting comfortably against her stomach.
Friends… she nodded, hearing his awkward tone. "Friends," she repeated to herself. I can live with that. So why did it hurt? Why did it feel, empty? Well, what do you expect of him, Michaela? Honestly, what were you expecting? Him to gaze deep into your eyes, move his head closer, and claim your lips, as he had…
She clenched her jaw and forced herself to stop the thought. He hasn't looked at me like that once since.
She swallowed and held the edge of her lower lip between her teeth. She'd woken up, called for him, he was there. She had felt his fingers glide over the tops of her feet, despite the pain, it had been soothing. She'd seen the fire in his eyes, a fire of passion which grew stronger the moment she had uttered that one single word. The relief she had seen fill his soul, poured over into the air between them. She tasted the honey on the edge of her lower lip, and then felt its refreshing sweetness seep throughout her mouth. She'd kept her eyes locked with his, despite the tears that blurred her vision. They were tears of gratitude; love. The strength of their gaze intensified, and he moved closer and closer towards her. She remembered the power, the emotion, as he claimed her lips. She pressed her hand against his chest, dropping her eyes closed as he moved his mouth against hers, each knowing they were communicating need and feeling that were beyond words alone. As he pulled away, she drew closer against him, time standing still as she felt her bare arms against his broad chest.
The moment could have lasted forever.
Friends. Michaela reminded herself.
She was lost in her harrowed thoughts, her hand firmly against her stomach and did not hear the sound of the knock at the door, until it opened slightly.
Michaela inhaled, surprised, and turned her head towards the door, pulling her hand immediately from her stomach, and dropping it to her side.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Rebecca smiled warmly, entering the room, and closing the door behind her.
"No, it's fine," Michaela moved herself into a more upright position, tucking several strands of hair behind each ear nervously.
"Michaela I wanted to check with you. About the sleeping arrangements, if you don't want Brian here, I can ask Matthew to share with Edmund Jr. and Brian can stay with Sully?" Rebecca had felt uncomfortable with having just assumed Michaela would agree.
"Becca, it's fine," she chuckled lightly, "I'm very used to that boy."
"Oh?" Rebecca crossed the room and closed the curtains, as it was considerably dark outside.
"Brian's been having terrible nightmares, for months now. At first I used to just wake up and find him there. I tried to dissuade him, and then he would just sleep on the floor with a blanket. So I gave up." She shook her head as Rebecca made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed.
"Michaela?" Rebecca frowned, seeing the distracted expression on her sister's face.
"Rebecca, were you scared?" Michaela's voice was hollow and seemed to come from nowhere.
"Was I scared?" she frowned, trying to understand the question.
"When you were married, when you had to," Michaela moved her right hand slightly, to imply her very subtle meaning.
Rebecca nodded quickly, understanding the question, yet needing a moment to consider her response. "I wasn't scared," she began, "I was nervous.".
"So was I. I mean, before," Michaela remembered the apprehension she'd felt once her relationship with Sully began to develop, and the thought of marriage crossed her mind. "I suppose I wanted to know if it was normal, or if there was just something wrong with me," she shrugged and looked away; her eyes empty.
"Oh, Michaela, it's perfectly normal. It's the biggest secret, aside from monthlies. It's not until after you're married, and other women smile sideways at you, that you realize, there's not a decent girl who walked done that aisle more worried about her wedding dress than her wedding night."
"Becca, why didn't we talk about this before?" she shook her head.
"Michaela, you screwed your nose up at the mere mention of marriage. I remember just after I gave birth to Edmund Jr., I was beaming from ear to ear, showing him around the family. You had just started medical school, and proceeded to interrogate me very determinedly, on the stages of labor and delivery, never for one moment tolerating your sisters' ooaas and ahhhs over the baby boy. You never wanted something as common as a husband and family," Rebecca's eyes glimmered, reaching across to pat Michaela's hand teasingly.
"Was I really that boring?" Michaela cringed.
"Yes," they both giggled lightly. Rebecca took a breath and returned to the previous topic. "I imagine Mother's attitudes never helped, that is, if she was still using the 'grit your teeth and bear it' advice by the time you received the necessary 'motherly talk'."
"I don't think I ever even received that talk, Becca. I went straight to Father, so I don't think Mother knew for a while. Although, when I was ten, Marjorie was sat down just after she started her monthlies and given the talk. She then proceeded to take an evil delight in embellishing the less savory details to me later that night, both hidden under a quilt in the dark. From then on, I was just too plain scared to look at a boy the wrong way, so Mother had absolutely nothing to be worried about," Rebecca watched the smile drop quickly from her sister's face, "Ironically, reality didn't end up being all that different from the horror stories Marjorie had haunted me with since I was ten," Michaela trailed off, her voice thinning, and by the end, was speaking in a whispered tone.
"Michaela, I'm sorry," Rebecca looked over her younger sister's pale complexion, and lifeless eyes. She wanted to hug her, but from the frozen expression on her face, Michaela looked as if any physical contact might shatter her to pieces.
Rebecca waited in silence, as she saw the dark shadow pass over and gradually fade from her sister's face, knowing exactly what she was reliving. She remained quiet, knowing that if Michaela wanted to, she would speak.
After several minutes of studying the delicately hand-sewn patchwork quilt, Rebecca felt Michaela's hands seek her back, her fingers digging desperately into the fabric of her dress as her chin pressed into Rebecca's shoulder. Rebecca knew better than to say anything further, as her sister's howling sobs pierced through the silence of the room.
"It's all right," she whispered, clutching the back of her sister's head.
"He hurt me, Becca," the tears flowed, drop after drop from her eyes, running along her upper lip and seeping into her mouth.
"I know," she validated, feeling the fine strands of Michaela's hair under her fingers.
"And he didn't care," the tears dropped from the edge of her jaw line and landed hard against Rebecca's shoulder. "I thought I would die. I tried to tell him but, he didn't care," Michaela unconsciously dug her fingers into her sister's back with the same desperation she had her dug fingers into the palms of her bound hands.
Rebecca didn't want to utter a sound, didn't want to remind Michaela she was actually speaking aloud. She had her own questions, but she quickly reminded herself, they were selfish, and raw facts were insignificant in comparison to the suffering her sister was experiencing.
"To know that your life doesn't matter, that who I was meant nothing," she swallowed, tasting the salt of her own tears, "I would have died. I kept waking up and there was more blood, and I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't think. All I could do was feel. Pain. Cold. Shame. I could see the children, Sully and Father - but they were dead. The children were the only ones alive. I'd promised their mother I'd look after them. I wasn't thinking about living for the next year. I was thinking about that next breath. I was just trying to stay alive for that next minute, that next hour. I never thought about now," she slowly released the force her fingers were exerting on her sister's back.
Rebecca still didn't dare to move her hands, but did speak softly, "Michaela, who found you?"
She blinked several times, actually remembering the faces as they entered the small space across from her. "Horace and, and Jake," fresh tears glistened in her eyes, "I didn't want them to see me, to know," she drew a breath and continued, "I couldn't walk. Jake carried me outside, but then I don't remember. Only voices. I was back at the Clinic, back in town and then just voices again; Brian, Colleen, Dorothy and then nothing until the next morning," The room fell again into silence, whilst Michaela caught her breath.
Rebecca carefully detached her fingers from her sister's hair, "I love you, Michaela," she leant forwards to tenderly kiss her sister's forehead, their eyes meeting for the first time as Rebecca drew her head away.
"You want to know what I feel? Most of the time, painfully alone. That I can't expect anyone to understand such fear. William didn't understand yesterday; when I said I wasn't afraid to die. Neither did I until this happened. It goes against everything we're taught, everything we teach our children. That no-one has the right to hurt another person, that life is fair, that God doesn't give us more than we can handle and none of it is true, Becca," Michaela brought her arms back to rest in her lap, the two sisters less than a foot apart. "We just say it to make ourselves feel safe. Maybe that's as it should be. Maybe we shouldn't have to prepare ourselves for our own mortality."
Rebecca ran her hands along her sister's arms as she too, rested them in her own lap. "Michaela, have you told Sully what happened?"
"Parts," she shrugged.
Rebecca paused, suddenly realizing there was a gap in the events. "Michaela, I don't understand, if you thought Sully was dead, how come he isn't?"
"The townsmen went out searching for him after they found me. They brought him back the next night. They weren't going to tell me, but he would have died - that I know for certain." Her voice had adopted a cold professionalism.
"You operated on him?" Rebecca muttered in disbelief.
Michaela looked away, hearing the crunch of the scalpel against his skull as if it were that very moment, "Yes."
"Michaela, you need to tell him. He needs to understand," Rebecca reaffirmed.
"But, what if he can't? What if it hurts him too much?"
"He's hurting every time you turn away from him; every time he sees you cry. You need to trust him." She watched her sister drop her head slightly, expecting further protest. None came.
"Michaela, please, if it is none of my business, do say, but you weren't expecting Sully to arrive, were you?" Rebecca smoothed out her full skirt slowly.
"No," she answered.
"And you hadn't told him about the pregnancy, had you?" She confirmed, Michaela shaking her head lightly. "Why not?" her words were incredibly soft and spaced out. There was no agenda behind her question; it was honest, and free of criticism.
"I was ashamed," Michaela alternated her gaze between her sister's open face, and the intricate pattern of her blouse. "I also felt guilty, as though I was letting him down. Despite knowing full-well that I couldn't have prevented this."
"He hasn't judged you though," Rebecca clarified.
"Becca, was it as bad as Mother made it seem?" Michaela glanced down at her hands laid flat against her skirt.
Rebecca looked up slowly, a reassuring smile crossing her face, "No, Michaela. We all have individual experiences, but I can promise you; being with someone out of love, would never compare to fear," Rebecca interlocked her fingers with her sister's, both keeping their eyes downcast.
"Before I left, Sully and I, I thought that maybe, possibly, with time, we'd be as close as we'd planned," Michaela spoke thoughtfully; wishfully.
"And now?" Rebecca pressed.
"Now that he knows," she diverted her eyes towards her stomach, "he says we can be friends," her voice cracked slightly on that final word.
"Are you sure?" Rebecca's disbelief was obvious.
"Of course, I'm sure. Tonight, he said so. He wants me to go home, and I asked about our future and he said we would be friends," Michaela wiped the corners of her eyes automatically.
Rebecca moved her head, shifting her eyes in search of an answer, "Perhaps he doesn't want you to feel pressured. Perhaps he is concerned you'll worry that because of the baby, you'll need some more time, to feel comfortable," Rebecca stopped, as Michaela drew an audible breath, and retorted desperately:
"But that's just it! What if he can't stand to look at me, he can't stand the thought of touching me. I couldn't believe he still had feelings for me at all. That's more than any man ever would have here, maybe, this was just the final straw." Michaela pulled her hand sharply away from her sister's, allowing feelings of disgust and contamination to rise to the forefront of her consciousness. "If I was afraid he wouldn't want me before, I knew he could never want me now."
Rebecca drew her arm back towards her lap, seeing the emotion behind her sister's violent action. She drew a calming breath; then another as she thought. "Well, then, what about William? Why, you said only last night that he had feelings for you, so you know it's not too much to ask."
"William kissed me today," Michaela admitted, watching for Rebecca's reaction.
Rebecca simply nodded, concealing her surprise.
"I could have a future here with him. The future we'd discussed a year ago," she hesitated. "Maybe I'm just afraid." She rolled her eyes, "I was afraid a year ago, let alone now."
"Michaela, before, when you and Sully were courting, how did you manage that fear?" Rebecca asked.
"I, not well," Michaela admitted, thinking back to some of her more awkward interactions with Sully when it came to kissing and touching.
"Medically I knew what to expect. I suppose, I'd told myself that every other woman copes. That it was just one of those things that I'd get through," Michaela answered coldly.
"Michaela that sounds like childbirth, not loving and being with your husband," Rebecca challenged.
Michaela shook her head, not following her.
Rebecca thought of a different analogy. "When you used to go to the opera, were you dissecting and analyzing the music into notes and phrases, checking to see if each instrument played the note at exactly the right time?"
Michaela thought the question quite absurd. "Don't be ridiculous. I enjoyed the music, the melody dancing against the counterpoint, each enhancing the other. The libretto entwining perfectly with the phrasing of the music, to convey the emotional intensity of the plot."
Rebecca simply shook her head with a smile. "That sounds closer to what I think you're trying to understand."
Michaela felt something shift.
"More musical, less medical," Rebecca clarified.
Michaela swallowed, not sure if she would've ever dared ask her sister this question a year ago, let alone now. Maybe precisely because of the 'now', that she felt she could ask it. "You make it sound like something one might come to enjoy," Michaela spoke tentatively.
"One might indeed," Rebecca smiled, seeing the curious, yet lost expression on her little sister's face, making her look all of about twelve years old.