Michaela buttoned the final button on her green bodice, looking down at her protruding stomach with a sigh. As she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, she wasn't sure what was worse; looking either puffy and bloated, or decidedly with child.
She turned, double-checking her appearance side-on, the reflection only being more confronting. Her breasts alone had doubled in size.
Michaela cringed, not enjoying the attributes of being female from the age of thirteen, let alone now.
She sighed; one feature had been enhanced; her hair had thickened and was shinier. She fanned it out against her back.
Michaela was startled by a knock on her bedroom door.
"Yes?" she called, stepping back from the mirror and turning towards the door.
"Don't mind me, Ma'am," Ellen nodded apologetically. "I have come to pack your belongings for the trip home."
"I see," Michaela watched as she brought the large trunk through from the hallway, placing it carefully onto the side of the bed.
"Please, I'm happy to do it," Michaela smiled, reaching for the gold buckle on the side of the trunk.
"That would just be uncomfortable for both of us, Ma'am," Ellen blushed lightly.
"At least let me help you?" Michaela offered.
Ellen looked between the wardrobe and the trunk, not able to refuse, but also know that accepting the woman's help wasn't proper.
Michaela crossed the room to open the top drawer from the chest of drawers beside the wardrobe, gathering undergarments and stockings and carrying them back to the trunk.
"Might I ask how old you are Ellen?" Michaela realized the young woman reminded her of a combination of Myra and Colleen's friend Becky, with striking blonde hair similar to Colleen's.
"Seventeen, Ma'am," she replied compliantly.
"How did you come to take this position?" Michaela watched as Ellen started precisely folding a blouse.
"My mother works as a cleaner at the bank with Mr Dickinson. He mentioned they were looking for a chambermaid," she continued.
"I see," Michaela smiled encouragingly. "Did you go to school, Ellen?"
"Until I was twelve, Ma'am," Ellen answered.
"Ellen, please stop calling me Ma'am," Michaela insisted.
"Yes," she trailed off awkwardly, having no intention of using her Christian name, but also struggling to find an alternative. "Dr Quinn."
Michaela sighed, thinking that had merely augmented the power imbalance, rather than diminishing it as she had intended.
"Did you want to be a chambermaid?" Michaela continued.
"I don't understand?" Ellen reached for the next blouse.
"Well, before you left school; is this what you imagined you would be doing?" Michaela opened the wardrobe door.
Ellen looked away, unsure of appropriate propriety.
"You may tell me the truth," Michaela encouraged.
"I wanted to be a teacher, Doctor," Ellen answered immediately, not even having to think about it.
"Why did you not continue at school?" Michaela commenced folding the lilac skirt she'd worn to Boston.
"My father," Ellen swallowed. "Said I should learn cookin' and sewin'. Said if I presented myself well enough, perhaps I would be a proper match for a suitor who was a teacher.
"I see. And what did you think?" Michaela tried to meet Ellen's gaze.
"I still wanted to be a teacher," she replied very quietly.
"It's not too late, is it?" Michaela had no way of knowing if the young woman was betrothed.
"Oh," Ellen shook her head dismissively, turning back to the wardrobe to fetch the next skirt. "I'm not able to go to college, Ma'am," she paused. "Sorry, Dr Quinn."
"What does your father do, if I may ask?" Michaela raised an eyebrow.
"He passed away, two years ago. They said it was rheumatic fever," Ellen answered.
"I'm sorry. That must have been distressing to watch," she empathized.
"Yes," Ellen murmured succinctly, looking down again to the trunk, half filled with clothes.
"What's your surname, Ellen?" Michaela enquired, an idea coming to mind.
"Douglas," she paused. "Dr Quinn?"
"Yes Ellen?" Michaela softened her expression, as Ellen smoothed the last blouse at the top of the trunk.
"Why? I mean, why would you want to speak with me?" Ellen asked, genuinely perplexed. "I'm a chambermaid."
"Why wouldn't I wish to speak with you?" Michaela smiled, shaking her head.
"Yes, but someone like you, taking an interest in me," Ellen explained awkwardly.
Michaela nodded, realizing exactly what she meant; the rules of social etiquette coming back to her.
"Ellen, I am who I am because of luck, nothing more than that," Michaela answered.
"That's not true. You worked hard, too," Ellen validated.
"Yes, I did. But had it not been for the luck of being born into the family I was, at the time I was, and to the father I was, my life would be very different," Michaela considered.
"May I speak freely, Dr Quinn?" Ellen paused, immediately receiving a nod of encouragement.
"You're still you, and I'm still me. And all the luck in the world won't change that. My children will never be doctors like Miss Colleen wishes to be," Ellen spoke brazenly.
"I hope one day it will be different. That a child, no matter their station or parents they're born to, will have the same opportunities," Michaela dreamed.
"Your baby will be lucky," Ellen stated somewhat boldly.
"I don't know about that, Ellen," Michaela looked away uncomfortably.
"Forgive me," Ellen swallowed nervously, as she turned to close the trunk. She had heard too many hushed conversations the past few days to know that there was something unusual about the doctor's circumstances.
"Thank-you for your help," Michaela nodded, noticing the young woman's face alter as she slipped back into professional appropriateness.
Ellen quickly nodded, and silently left the room.
Michaela turned around and studied the gold locks on the edge of the trunk.
She sighed, remembering some of the conversations on abolitionism she'd had with her father.
Even though both her mother's and her sisters' staff were 'free' and paid according to their professionalism and experience, Michaela was all-too conscious of the class divide. More money, led to better and longer education, which either led to higher-status marriages for women, or more prestigious careers, and subsequently more money for men. And then the cycle would simply repeat itself.
Michaela knew she was content to be breaking with this tradition, however, was also acutely aware that it was a choice she had had the luxury of making; unlike Ellen.
Michaela turned to reach for the empty carpet bag she had come with which was rested against the wall.
"Michaela?" Rebecca called from the corridor with a gentle tap on the door.
"Come in," she replied, bringing the bag to the end of the bed and opening it.
Rebecca entered the room and looked around for a while, seeing the unmistakable signs of packing.
"Sully says you're leaving in the morning," she muttered, arriving by the edge of the bed.
Michaela looked up from the folded blouse in her hands. "Yes, I should have told you myself. I apologize." She delicately placed the clothing into the bag, reaching for the next item.
"Don't be ridiculous, that's not why I came up here," she paused. "Michaela, is this what you want?" Rebecca kept her voice light and neutral.
Why does she keep saying it like that? Oh yes, I desperately 'want' to be returning home to a town of simple-minded, gossiping, She stopped the thought sharply. That's unfair, Michaela.
"No, Rebecca, it is not what I want, but it is the right thing to do." She stuffed the tightly folded pale crimson skirt into the bag, trying hard not to think about the reality of going home.
"Michaela, yesterday, what changed your mind? You were so sure. You'd tried so hard," Rebecca reached for the folded brown jacket, handing it helpfully to her sister.
"I don't know. It was just a feeling more than anything rational," she hesitated, packing the jacket neatly into the bottom of the bag. "Rebecca, I saw Father this morning. I needed to talk to him, to say goodbye."
"So that's where you were," Rebecca smiled, knowing that Sully had been wasting his time demanding an answer out of Michaela. She knew how stubborn her sister could be.
"I thought about who he was, what he believed in. He wouldn't have supported such a decision." Michaela spoke coldly.
"But he would have supported you," Rebecca reassured immediately.
"Yes, he would have." Michaela hesitated, before continuing, "I've had so many dreams, Becca. When I first found out I was pregnant. I'd dream of asking Father for his help, the first time he would say he supported my decision, the second time, he was against it, the third time," she ran her hands down her face, "Forget it, it's not real."
"No, Michaela, what happened the third time?" Rebecca handed her the last skirt, watching as Michaela hastily tried to dismiss the question. The tears had already collected in her eyes.
"Becca, please," she saw the determined look on her sister's face. "I could hear it crying and I begged Father to not make me have to see but, I had to and, it, just looked like him, and, what, what if it does," the tears ran slowly down her cheeks.
"Ssh, Michaela," she drew her sister into a soothing hug. Truthfully, she had no words of comfort. There was every possibility that the child her sister was carrying, would look exactly like its father. "That's something you'll have to deal with, and no-one's expecting you to keep this baby." She released Michaela from the embrace. "Besides, aren't some Indian babies rather attractive?" Rebecca pushed the words through her mouth.
Michaela shrugged, although allowed herself to actually consider the question. "Yes, I, I suppose they are. Last year, I looked after a little boy. His mother was Indian, and his father was white."
"Oh? And was he cute?" Rebecca tried to sound open and unbiased, however fought against deep-rooted prejudices.
Michaela frowned lightly; No, he wasn't 'cute'. But there was something in his spirit, in his smile. Even in the helplessness of his cries. "Yes, I suppose he was."
Michaela glanced around the end of the bed, looking for anymore clothes. Once realizing they'd finished packing, she closed the carpet bag securely.
"Then, think about that. Think about your baby as its own person. Think about the life you want to give it, and that it will be yours, no matter how it may look. That who it will be is up to you alone," Rebecca kept her eyes fixed on Michaela's, waiting for her to look up. Maybe she'd overstepped the unspoken boundaries, even as a sister.
"Thank you," she whispered, slowly looking up.
"Michaela, I, if Marjorie asks, when are you due?" Rebecca knew she was only using Marjorie as an excuse; that it was her that was really curious.
Michaela's eyebrows drew together into a concentrated frown. Something, someone, yes, someone had definitely discussed, who? Then she remembered. "January twenty-fifth," her inflection was dull, resigned.
"Will you keep in touch?" Rebecca reached forwards to lift the heavy bag from the edge of the mattress.
"I will," Michaela replied. "Becca?" the older Quinn daughter looked back at her. "What are you actually going to tell our sister?" Michaela clutched her hands to the frame of the bed, again looking down.
"I hadn't thought about it, but she wouldn't dare say a word, Michaela," Rebecca assured.
"Rebecca I'd never condone an untruth, however I'd really prefer she not be, awaiting it. I wouldn't want her arriving into town unannounced in five months time," Michaela winced at the very image of her sister's judgmental face.
"Well," she ran her tongue along the insides of her teeth, thinking, "I suppose, I could always say you informed me of a miscarriage," Rebecca swallowed, realizing that the difference between 'informing' and 'actually had' was that she wasn't strictly lying.
"I think that would be wise. Marjorie isn't exactly the most predictable of individuals," Michaela raised an eyebrow, Rebecca nodding quickly.
"Is there anything you need me to help with here?" She looked around the neat room.
"No, everything's all packed," Michaela nodded feeling her chest tingle with nervousness.
"I'll leave you to have an early night, then," Rebecca smiled warmly, and headed to the door.
"Goodnight," Michaela returned the smile, as her sister left the room silently.
Michaela turned around once the door had closed, looking around at the stack of boxes and the large carpet bag. This is it. She brought her left hand up automatically to the stronger fluttering that commenced just under her belly button. We are all going home.
~.~
X.O.X
Thursday, 26th August, 1869
One Day Later – 18 Weeks Gestation
X.O.X
~.~
"Ma? Gotta get up, Ma! We're leavin'! Come on, Ma," Brian, still in his older cousin's striped pajamas, patted his mother's shoulder lightly. "Maaaaaa, ya gonna miss the traaainnnn," he whined, tapping her shoulder more encouragingly, as he pushed the heavy quilt away.
Michaela responded to the crisp morning air hitting her bare legs more than she did to the child's gentle tapping on her shoulder. She groaned slightly, still semi-conscious, as she reached for the quilt, forced to flutter her eyelids open when Brian pushed it further away. "Brian, where's the, Brian Cooper!"
"Come on, Ma, can't sleep. Gotta get up." He sprung up from the side of the bed, and quickly found his laid-out clothing, pulling the sleeping attire hurriedly from his body and dressing.
Michaela rolled sleepily onto her back and allowed her eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.
"See, Ma, I'm almost dressed." He began furiously buttoning the front of his white shirt, looking around for his boots.
"Mmm-hmm, I can see, Brian," Michaela pulled herself up slowly into a sitting position. She felt sluggish, and exhaled slowly, as she pushed her hair back from her face.
Why do I feel so, oh, of course.
The daily reminder of the last four months hit her routinely, as it had done every morning for the last seven weeks. As if to needlessly confirm it, Michaela looked down.
Oh, God.
Brian looked up from the final button when he heard the shocked gasp from across the room.
"Somethin' wrong, Ma? Are ya feelin' all right?" His shirt hanging over his trousers, Brian ran quickly to the left side of the bed, studying his mother's displeased expression.
"Everything's fine, Brian." Michaela dragged herself to the side of the mattress, Brian moving aside slightly as she got to her feet.
"Then how come ya looked real worried?" He glanced from her face to her stomach, which was only several inches below his eyelevel.
"I, nothing, Brian. Will you finish dressing, and then go downstairs please?" Michaela stood by the window smoothing out her long nightdress against her firm abdomen.
"Yeah, Ma," he tucked his shirt into his trousers hurriedly, and buttoned them up. "Hey, if you're comin' back home now, does that mean you and Sully'll get married before the baby's born?"
"Outside!" Michaela rubbed her left temple in exasperation as she pointed wildly across to the door.
"Ma?" His curious expression dropped instantly, realizing she was serious.
"Out; take your boots and your jacket and leave me alone." Michaela paced away from the bed, feeling awkward and heavy.
The little boy hung his head, quickly collected his shoes and jacket, and scurried from the bedroom.
Michaela gazed outside into the garden below for several seconds.
Well, you knew this was going to happen eventually. Yes, but hardly overnight. She frowned, hesitantly looking down at her fuller stomach.
Is that normal? She reprimanded herself immediately. Michaela Quinn, you know it's normal. You know that fetal development does not necessarily occur in equal, gradual stages. She brought her right hand quickly to the center of her abdomen.
Oh God, I hate this.
She sighed and tossed her long hair back over her shoulders, moving into the adjoining bathroom, feeling her stomach brush against the large porcelain bowl of the washbasin. All right, so I just have to adjust a little bit. She took a step backwards and reached for the folded lilac towel to her left. I've made this decision; it's not going to get any easier. She swallowed. I was just hoping it wouldn't have to be quite so obvious, just yet.
Michaela shook her head, and leant forwards to splash the cool, refreshing water over her face. Patting her face and neck dry, she set about getting ready as swiftly as possible.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Brian clumped down the stairs, after tucking his shirt in and putting on, but not lacing his shiny, black boots. His head was lowered.
"Mornin', Brian," Sully smiled, he and Matthew pacing the entrance foyer below.
"Mornin'," the little boy muttered, barely looking up, "Ma's in a bad mood again."
"How do you mean?" Sully frowned, looking back up towards the first floor, concerned.
"She yelled at me, and I didn't hardly say nothin'," Brian defended himself quickly.
Matthew winced slightly, knowing exactly what it had probably been, "Brian, did you mention the baby?"
"Yeah, so?" He arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
They exchanged knowing looks, as Matthew bent down to lace up Brian's boots.
Sully placed a hand on Brian's shoulder and lowered his voice slightly. "Now, Brian, there's somethin' ya gotta understand. See ya ma, well, she ain't," he took a breath, the right words were proving very hard to find. "She ain't," Sully glared down at Matthew as the young man rose to his feet. Sully's eyes widened, indicating he needed help.
"Ah, Brian, what Sully's tryin' to say is," Matthew looked back at Sully, equally at a loss for words.
"We're gonna have to explain it to him," Sully cleared his throat.
"Do I gotta be here for this?" Matthew grimaced, taking a step away from Brian's side and looking longingly towards the dining room.
"Explain what? Sully, ya don't gotta explain it to me. Ma told me where babies come from," Brian announced proudly, as he pulled his jacket on awkwardly.
"She, ah, did?" Sully and Matthew exchanged yet another surprised look.
"Yeah, a while ago, showed me a book. With all the pictures and really long doctor names for all the inside parts, like where the baby grows and everything," Brian explained proudly.
"Well, ah, Brian. Ya see, the thing is, ya ma," Sully looked up as Penelope skipped down the stairs, a rather sleep-deprived looking Colleen following.
"Mornin' Penny," Sully smiled at the little girl, as she arrived by Brian's side.
"Good morning, Mr. Sully," she replied politely, smoothing out her frilly, pink dress as she looked over Brian's maroon suit.
"You, get enough sleep Colleen?" Matthew watched his sister wipe her eyes and yawn as she stumbled down the stairs.
"Did I get any sleep?" She glared not-so-subtly in the little girl's direction. "If I had to hear one more question about 'what's it like to kiss a boy', or, 'so what does your brother want to be when he grows up'. I swear I was going to be going into Ma's room, pushing Brian out of bed, and making him sleep with you two," she sighed noisily.
"Well, you'll all be back in your own beds soon," Sully touched her shoulder briefly, in condolence.
They all looked up as Ellen walked in from the dining room. "Breakfast has just been served," she informed the group, turning her attention to the youngest child for a moment.
"Miss Penelope, dear, where is your mother?" Ellen knew it was not courteous to begin breakfast without Mrs. Dickinson present.
"Oh she," Penny began to answer, when Rebecca appeared at the top of the stairs.
"I am right here," she muttered lightly, as the children proceeded quickly into the dining room, Brian hoping they'd be having pancakes again.
"Where is Michaela?" Rebecca arrived at the bottom of the stairs and addressed Sully.
"Still gettin' ready," he replied, as Matthew interjected.
"Someone put his foot in his mouth about the baby, so she might be a little while," Matthew enlightened his aunt with an understanding shrug.
The three began a slow pace into the dining room.
"I spoke with her last night, and she certainly seemed more, accustomed, to the baby," Rebecca spoke honestly.
Sully waited, as Edmund Jr. walked briskly into the room between them.
"Either she's fooling herself, or she just wanted you to think that," Sully responded, as Matthew took his seat. Rebecca and Sully remained at a slight distance from the table.
"What do you mean?" she shook her head.
"I mean there's no way she could go from wanting to get rid a that baby, to being adjusted to it, in less than two days. Just not possible. And I know Michaela; she's very good at denying her feelings. Mostly to herself." Sully saw Rebecca nod in understanding.
"Oh, I know that, believe me," she paused, "only, I believed her last night. I think she really is trying to accept this child."
"She's tryin'. Gonna take a long time though," Sully gestured to the table, as Rebecca took her seat and they began a vastly more informal breakfast than the Dickinson's were used to.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Colleen was perched comfortably in an armchair, finishing the final pages of the book she had been absorbed in, Matthew and Brian were playing an intense game of checkers across the room, Michaela sat on the large couch, slowly looking through a family photo album, and Sully sat in the armchair opposite her, pretending to be flicking through an old poetry book he'd found in the library.
Sully had remained quiet from the moment Michaela had entered the dining room, whilst they'd been eating and as they'd taken seats in the sitting room until it was time to leave.
Michaela studied his neutral expression, with increasing frustration. The fact that he wasn't saying anything just made her angrier. He was deliberately not saying anything. She adjusted the album in front of her awkwardly.
"Another one!" Brian exclaimed, proudly taking possession of another of Matthew's pieces.
"Mother, do I have to go to school today? I will miss them leaving," Penelope chewed on her lower lip, as Rebecca tried to encourage her out the door.
"Honey, I'm afraid so. You've had a lot of time with Brian and you can always keep in touch," Rebecca looked towards the sitting room, trying not to let herself weaken. "Now, say goodbye to everyone," she instructed, seeing the little girl frown, but nonetheless pace daintily into the sitting room.
"Aunt Michaela?" she announced herself sweetly, crossing the room to address her first. "I'm leaving for school. I just wanted to say goodbye," she alternated her eyes very quickly between her aunt and Brian, trying not to blush.
"Thank-you, sweetheart. Perhaps you can come to Colorado sometime and visit us?" Michaela kissed her lovingly on the cheek, as she looked up at Rebecca with a smile.
Penny cordially said 'goodbye' to each member of the family, fluttering her eyelids several times as she approached Brian.
"Um, Brian, I," she began awkwardly, as he looked up almost reluctantly from the checkers game. "I just wanted to say thanks for being here to play games with and, I'm sorry I was so bossy."
Brian, realizing he had everyone's devoted attention pushed his chair back to address her more politely. "That's all right, I'm sorry I hid that doll. Maybe ya can come see us sometime I could show ya my horse?" he suggested, getting to his feet to hug her.
"That would be lovely, Brian," Penelope smiled radiantly, hesitating for a moment before boldly leaning forwards and planting a small, delicate kiss directly on Brian's lips. "I'll miss you," she giggled, the little boy gasping slightly as he took a step backwards and nearly knocked the chair over.
"Ah um, ah yeah, you, ah, too," he swallowed, gasping for breath, and turning bright red.
Both Brian and Penelope looked around as they heard Matthew and Sully chuckle lightly.
"Penelope Elizabeth!" Rebecca called, not angry with her young daughter's actions, just reacting with automatic condemnation of such forwardness.
The red-headed girl dropped her eyes with embarrassment and scampered back towards the front door, picking up her books and leaving quickly for school.
There was a long pause, as Michaela, Rebecca and Colleen all eyed each other, as did everyone else.
"Way to go, little brother!" Matthew laughed heartily, being the first to break the silence.
"Matthew!" Michaela objected, although failed to conceal the smile in her eyes.
"Aww, weren't my fault. She just," he licked his lips, not entirely unpleased with the event that had just taken place.
"Brian, I am so sorry," Rebecca glanced at him sincerely.
"It's all right, Aunt Rebecca. She's well, she's a nice cousin," he looked downwards, feeling his cheeks grow hot.
Sully chuckled as Colleen teased, "Brian's got a girlfriend, Brian's got a girlfriend," she sang, seeing her brother's eyes widen, as he stumbled back to his seat.
"I do not, she ain't my girlfriend." He tried to look suitably mortified.
"Leave him alone, poor boy," Michaela smiled softly, as Brian forced himself to return to the checkers game, although his mind was still reliving that kiss, over and over.
"Michaela, we'd best be leaving," Rebecca changed the subject swiftly, everyone getting to their feet and moving out through the entrance hall, to the large, black buggy.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela and Rebecca were the last to climb down from the buggy, Sully and Matthew helping each of them respectively.
"Hey, Boston to St. Louis, ain't that us?" Colleen frowned, hearing the nearby conductor's calls.
"We're still supposed to have twenty minutes," Michaela frowned, as Sully quickly darted off to check.
"No, it's us. We gotta go." He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the five tickets he'd purchased the day before, seeing the panic appear immediately on Michaela's face.
"Michaela, perhaps it's best. It's all right, you don't need to say anything. We will keep in touch, and I'll make sure Marjorie keeps her mouth shut," Rebecca moved forwards to clutch her youngest sister tightly, Michaela feeling the tears stream from her cheeks the moment her chin rested on Rebecca's shoulder.
"Rebecca, I don't know how to thank you," Michaela whispered awkwardly, as Matthew and Sully hailed a porter to see to it that their luggage was promptly loaded.
"Ssh, don't worry about that. I love you, I'm so proud of you, and I'd do anything for you, Michaela. You just take care of yourself," Rebecca forced herself to pull away.
"Don't you worry, we're all gonna be making sure she does." He reached from Michaela's elbow, as she struggled to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"You're a good man, Sully," Rebecca reached forwards to take his hand. Delicately, he kissed it. Matthew, Brian and Colleen hugged their aunt very quickly, as they rushed ahead inside the station.
"I love you, Becca," Michaela reached forwards to grab her sister's hand again, knowing she didn't want to let go.
"Michaela, we have to go," Sully brought his right hand to her back, squeezing her shoulder consolingly; he could see the agony on her face.
"I know," Michaela swallowed, as Rebecca pulled away, also having tears in her eyes.
"Write!" She smiled brightly as Sully succeeded in directing Michaela towards the station behind them.
Michaela kept her eyes locked with her sister's, feeling her feet move under her as Sully led her further and further away.
"Be alright, Michaela, she can come visit. We have to go," he paused for only a moment whilst she collected herself.
"Sully, she saved me. She," Michaela looked back, as Rebecca settled herself in the buggy.
"I know, Michaela. You'll see her again soon. We need to go now." He turned as he saw the buggy begin moving slowly away.
She nodded and turned, a lot more focused as they moved quickly through the station, catching up with the children who were boarding the final carriage.
Michaela looked at the deep metal steps leading up to the carriage and reached for the edge of her skirt, drawing an energizing breath.
"Ma," Matthew offered his right arm down to her. She passed her medical bag up to him, as she felt Sully's arm around her waist.
"Thank-you," Michaela followed Matthew inside, as he handed the porter their tickets, and Brian eagerly chose a suitable compartment, of the few that were left.
"We all set?" Sully waited until everyone had worked out their seating arrangements, before he slid the door closed, and took a seat on Michaela's right.
"Sure," Brian grinned excitedly, as he heard the engines start, and the conductor's whistle blowing shrilly. He knelt up against the window, watching as they slowly began moving.
"We all set?" Sully repeated, nudging Michaela very gently.
Matthew and Colleen, who sat opposite, exchanged nervous glances.
Michaela glanced downwards, still struggling to believe the turn of events. Slowly, she looked back up towards him. "Let's go home."