"Ma, Ma, did you see me, did you see?" Brian hurtled down from the stage, the class scattering into their respective families around the meadow.
"Of course, sweetheart. You were brilliant," Michaela caught his arms, diverting the unwanted physical contact.
"And I didn't stuff up any lines," The young boy boasted proudly.
"And you didn't hurt Lewis," Colleen interjected immediately, unpinning her hat, and fixing up the stray pieces of her fringe.
"Was terrific, Brian. We loved it," Sully patted the boy's back encouragingly.
"Sure, did, little brother," Matthew ruffled his younger brother's hair, before turning back to Ingrid, slipping an arm around her waist with a contented smile.
"Oh and just so you know, didn't wanna have to kiss her, but the Reverend said since we were gettin' married, needed to right at the end," Brian folded his arms seriously, deeming it of great importance that everyone around him understood the motive behind his quick kiss with Colleen.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with that, she's ya sister," Sully reassured, Colleen arriving awkwardly by Michaela's side, everyone looking back towards the stage as the Reverend clapped his hands to get their attention.
"Ladies, and gentlemen, boys and girls, I think after that fantastic performance, the children must all have a lot to talk about. So, I propose we move over to Grace's, to enjoy our supper. Once again, I would like to thank everyone for their hard work in making today such an overwhelming success," Timothy slowly climbed down the steps to the side of the stage, Olive appearing by his stage with a warm smile.
"Was a marvelous play, Reverend. You wouldn't be tryin' to encourage a certain couple together by any chance, would you?" Olive grinned, the play being anything less than subtle to her match-making eye.
"Don't you go looking at me, Olive, was the children who wrote it. If you ask me, Colleen and Brian got their hearts set on those two gettin' married," the Reverend dusted his black hat off, before placing it securely onto his head.
"I know, bless 'em. Think that might be overreaching a bit now. Doubt that Dr Mike'll ever," Olive shrugged, both of them subconsciously setting eyes on the aforementioned family, Timothy nodding slowly in reflection.
"Maybe you're right," he muttered, quickly forcing himself into distraction, taking Olive's arm as the pair made their way towards the main street.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Right, come on, still got lots a meatloaf and biscuits, can't be lettin' it go to waste now," Grace tapped the metal spoon down on the edge of the oven tray, several townspeople gathering around her to refill their plates with food.
"Can I get some more?" Brian looked down at his plate, carefully pushing the uneaten vegetables into a smaller, squashed pile.
"Sure," Sully replied quickly, looking up when he heard Michaela's voice over his.
"Not until you've finished those peas and potatoes, young man," Michaela held the knife and fork loosely in her hands, her eyes shifting from Brian's plate, to Sully, a small disapproving frown crossing her face, as the young boy shrugged and quickly gulped down his food.
"Now?" He held the empty plate in front of his mother, Michaela rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Go on then," she dismissed him, the boy running quickly across to Grace behind the long tables of food.
"Dr Mike, ah," Colleen gestured surreptitiously down to the barely touched food on Michaela's plate, the slight edge to the girl's voice conveying her meaning.
"Colleen," Michaela whispered, however sliced another small piece of meatloaf and slipped it into her mouth.
The subtle glances and exchanges continued between the two until Michaela had reluctantly consumed the food in front of her.
"So ah, tomorrow. Was thinkin' about a picnic, then maybe a hike up through," Sully watched Colleen place her glass down beside her plate her reply instant and direct.
"Can't." Her eyes widened for a quick moment, realizing she'd now have to think of an excuse. Clasping her fingers awkwardly in her lap, the young girl fidgeted with her skirt for several moments before daring to glance back in Sully's direction.
"All right," he nodded, his voice slow as he quickly became very aware of an underlying agenda.
Colleen sighed, the atmosphere around the small table becoming incredibly stifled and uncomfortable. Sliding her cutlery together on the plate, Michaela reached for the glass of apple cider, her eyes alternating between Colleen's raised eyebrows to Sully's resigned confusion.
Fortunately, the silence was broken with Brian arriving back at the table, his plate loaded with several slices of meatloaf.
"Brian, are you crazy?" Colleen chastised, the young boy looking guiltily down at the thick cuts of meat, soaked in rich gravy, before taking his seat next to Colleen and Michaela, Sully opposite him.
"He's a growin' boy. 'Sides all that flying through the air rescuin' people's gonna tire you out," Sully smiled, pushing his chair out from the table slightly to rest his right hand on his left knee.
"So, what you kids fancy doin' tomorrow after church?" Sully looked at the dry crust of meatloaf on the edge of his plate, discreetly reaching forwards and handing it under the table to the wolf, receiving a grateful lick on the hand.
"Ah, ha bout we," Brian stopped chewing trying to make himself heard.
"Brian Cooper! Not with your mouth full," Michaela shook her head appalled, the young boy's shoulders sinking and head dropping whilst he swallowed his food.
"I think we should," Colleen tapped her fingertips on the red-checked tablecloth, quickly trying to put forward a suggestion before her brother was able to digest his supper.
"Swimmin'," Brian announced loudly, looking downwards with a small yelp as Colleen kicked him under the table.
"Fishing." She stated clearly, Sully's eyes narrowing, he'd had enough of this.
"Right, someone gonna tell me just what's goin' on here." He folded his arms finitely across his chest, looking between Michaela, Colleen and finally down to Brian.
"What, what do you mean?" Colleen ran her tongue along her teeth, dropping her head; knowing exactly what he meant.
"Ma's," Brian's face widened into an excited grin, merely assuming that Michaela's observed weight gain was of some intriguing importance to his sister, enough that she'd been acting so peculiarly.
"Promise." Colleen's voice was barely audible, yet succinct. The young boy was reminded that his sister had sworn him to secrecy only a week earlier.
"Dr Mike?" Sully dropped the napkin he'd been creatively folding down to the edge of the table, everyone turning at the sound of a distant scuffle.
"I told ya, ya ain't welcome here, Hank," the Reverend stood from his chair, all eyes going to the slightly intoxicated bartender.
"Just wanna join in, seein' as how my place's empty on account a this nice little family gatherin'," His voice dripped with liquored sarcasm.
"Come on, Hank, you've had too much to drink, don't wanna go causin' a scene," Olive rose from her chair, arriving to Timothy's left, the pair having hoped to contain the situation quietly.
"Fine," Hank nodded slowly, staggering over to Grace, who had no choice but to pile some meatloaf and vegetables onto a plate.
"There now. Just, enjoy ya supper," Grace handed Hank the food, the majority of onlookers taking it as a sign that the situation had resolved itself, and returned their attention to their previous trivial chatter.
Sully's bright blue eyes flashed between Hank and the conversation he'd been having up until that point, uneasiness settling in his chest; Hank's submission had been too easy.
"So Sully, can go fishin', can't we?" Brian's eyes were hope-filled, watching patiently as Sully continued to observe Hank survey the crowd, the bartender finally choosing exactly where he wanted to sit.
Sully pulled a concerned face, pushing back his chair several inches in preparation for the objection that was to ensure.
"You ain't sittin' with us, Hank, just go on somewhere else," Horace got to his feet defensively, Hank having decided to take the empty chair on the table with Horace, Myra, and Lewis.
"Free country, can sit where I like," Hank looked hungrily at the plate of food in front of him, Horace pacing around the table in confrontation whilst Myra and Lewis exchanged startled glances at the gruff man's intrusion.
"Then what's wrong with over at the Saloon?" Horace rested his hand on the table only inches from Hank's plate, impending fatherhood causing a newfound protectiveness to surface.
"Wouldn't be 'round all these fine people then, would I? 'Sides, ain't had the time to congratulate Myra, have I?" Hank tossed several ringlets of hair over his shoulder, deliberately directing his attention to his former employee.
"Reckon we might have a bit of a problem any time soon," Sully turned to watch the discourse across the café escalate, before rising to his feet and unobtrusively sauntering past nearby tables.
"Am real happy for ya, Myra," Hank nodded several times, a strange expression appearing on his face; sarcasm mixed with envy and sincerity.
"Hank, I'm warnin' ya," Horace remained firmly positioned to Hank's left, the telegraph operator's hand still resting on the table between his wife and the troublesome bartender.
"What? Ain't done nothin'," Hank glanced back up at Horace, the anger and jealousy now apparent behind his cold eyes.
"Don't care, don't like ya talkin' to her," Horace turned slightly, as Sully appeared by his side, sensing Hank's impending outburst.
"Well, that's just tough! Ain't it 'Papa', coz I can talk, to whoever I want," Hank looked between Sully and Horace, starting to feel threatened. He knew by that stage he had the attention of everyone in the café.
"Hank please, don't make a scene," Myra tensed her shoulders, her voice soft, yet pleading.
"What's the matter, Myra? Come over here just to let ya know how pleased I am for ya, bein' in the family way and all. Just glad you did it in the right order this time, not like that little scare last year," Hank winked, rising to his feet, a humiliating smile plastered on his face.
"Hank," Myra sighed, realizing immediately that his motivation for coming over to them was anything by positive.
"Ma, how come Hank's always pickin' on Myra?" Brian slid from the chair, going to Michaela's side as they continued to watch the altercation from a distance.
"He's just jealous, sweetheart," Michaela squeezed the boy's shoulder, her eyes diverting back to the table across the open space, Lewis having arrived on his feet by his uncle's side.
"You're gonna leave right now, or," Horace clenched his right fist tentatively, realizing he probably didn't have a chance against even a drunk Hank, should it come to physical violence.
"Or what, jack ass? Tryin' to prove you're the big man in front of the little woman now?" Hank looked around, very impressed at the audience he'd acquired, before taking a step forwards, shoving his hand into Horace's shoulder firmly.
"Or this," Horace looked swiftly between his wife and his tormentor, before lunging towards Hank, an outstretched arm colliding with his chest.
The ensuring scuffle was relatively superficial, Sully rolling his eyes as both Hank and Horace landed on the ground, arms locked against each other's necks.
"Come on, break it up," Sully shook his hand, a disappointed groan coming from Myra, as people ran quickly to gather around the brawling pair.
"I wanna see," Brian pulled away from the table immediately, disappearing amongst the crowd of onlookers.
"Brian," Michaela opposed, reluctantly getting to her feet and following after him, Colleen dropping her shoulders in defeat and doing the same.
"Uncle Horace, please," Lewis frowned, bending down to try and pull the telegraph operator off the bartender.
"Leave 'im, Lewis, don't wanna see ya get hurt," Sully tugged on the boy's arm, Matthew, who had been sitting with Ingrid and her family, merged from the crowd looking between Sully and the two men fighting like schoolboys.
"You gonna stop them?" The young man gripped his hands to his hips demandingly, both men wincing as Horace managed to grab a handful of Hank's hair, the drunken bartender growling in pain.
"Nah, they'll tire 'em selves out," Sully felt Brian squash through the sea of onlookers, arriving by his side.
"Horace, I don't want you gettin' hurt. Stop fightin'," Myra crossed her arms over her chest, walking around the corner of the table.
Michaela saw Brian disappear through the crowd, about to follow after him when Colleen pulled back on her arm.
"Colleen, my medical bag is in the wagon, can you?" Michaela turned back to address the young girl, her voice fading when she saw Colleen's disapproving glare.
"Fine, just, I give up," Colleen dropped her hands in complete exasperation to her sides, shrugging Michaela off and running back towards the livery.
"I said break it up," Matthew pulled on Horace's arm, turning to Sully for assistance.
"You just gonna stand there?" The young man protested, Sully looking a final time between Myra and Lewis, before bending down to the men on the ground.
"Horace. Horace," Sully and Matthew pulled him from Hank, the tall, dark-haired man slowly beginning to straighten himself out.
"No, no ya don't," Matthew interceded quickly, a hand going to Hank's chest as he got to his feet, in no mood to call it quits.
"Go on, Hank. All over," Sully tightened his grip on Horace's shoulder, concerned that the slightly bruised man may attempt one final retaliatory strike.
Michaela watched Colleen disappear, before arriving at the edge of the crowd, and beginning to push her way through the mass of townspeople.
The Reverend and Olive, along with several others, including, Jake, Dorothy, and Loren, remained at a safe distance, several feet behind Matthew and Sully.
"Hank, please?" Myra brushed a worried tear from her eye, looking between each of the breathless men.
"Fine," The bartender dusted off his hands, looking from Horace, to Sully, Matthew, and finally to Myra. His voice was heavy with defeat; tainted with bitter envy.
"Don't think ya know what ya got yaself into, Myra. That baby's gonna come out lookin' like its bastard of a father!" Hank snarled, taking one final glance around at his audience before kicking the chair in front of him, and storming back towards the Saloon.
Michaela had her right hand pressed between Becky's mother's back and Steven Myers' shoulder, still forging her way through to the front of the crowd, when she heard Hank's remark float over the silently apprehensive gathering. Her eyes glazed over for a single moment, suddenly picturing this child for the first time. Her child. The graphic visual overreaction that flooded her mind was instantly accompanied by immediate, gripping nausea.
Swallowing desperately, Michaela looked back in the direction she'd come, realizing she needed an immediate and discrete escape route.
"Horace, what'd ya have to do a dumb thing like that for. You knew it was just what Hank was lookin' for," Myra brushed the dirt and dust from her husband's shoulders and chest, the crowd slowly beginning to break away. Matthew and Sully regarded each other for several moments, the tension from the week before subdued, however still very much present.
"Horace ain't got hurt, did he?" Brian looked between Sully and Matthew, unaware of the slight friction between the two men.
"I'm fine, Brian, don't you worry 'bout me," Horace reassured, wrapping his arm around Myra's shoulder, and leading her back to her seat.
Michaela arrived in the alleyway between Grace's and the Clinic, her right hand over her mouth, her left clutching her skirt from her hurried dash.
She moved her left hand up to grip the cold, stone wall of the Clinic, Michaela felt her upper body lurch forwards, violent vomiting ensuing as she was reminded of Hank's heartless words. She could feel the tips of her fingers slide against the rough surface, nails digging more firmly against the stone as she managed to rid herself of the still undigested supper that had been in her stomach.
"Here," Michaela barely had time to orientate herself once again to her surroundings, before a handkerchief appeared over her right shoulder, Michaela at once aware of the identity of the voice.
"Thank-you." She wiped her mouth with as much composure as she could muster, swallowing several times as she regulated her breathing and allowed the nausea to subside.
"Always tryin' to tell Grace, one day she's gonna make someone real sick with her cookin'," Robert E. chuckled lightly, lowering his head, realizing Michaela didn't appreciate an audience for what had been quite an undignified moment.
"I'm sorry." Michaela kept her back to him, studying the force with which her left hand was secured against the stone wall.
"You be all right?" The Blacksmith frowned, respecting her wishes, however feeling guilty leaving Michaela on her own.
"I just need a minute," she dropped her head once again, as she heard his shoes crunch against the dusty ground.
Realizing she was alone, Michaela sighed noisily, feeling her shoulders tense up as her upper body rose and fell with each strained breath. Her breathing was high in her chest, as she looked down to see her stomach tight against the material of her two-piece red dress.
Repositioning her feet underneath her, Michaela once again heard Hank's words from minutes earlier. Throwing her upper body forwards, she found herself once again wracked with powerful retching. Her stomach now void of any contents, Michaela felt her weight fall heavily against the stone wall, her breathing labored and tears beginning to run freely from her eyes.
Alternating her gaze from the deserted alleyway and then back downwards, Michaela blinked her eyes several times, her vision blurring as the uncontrollable tears continued to fall.
It's not fair…
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"But she was right here," Colleen dropped Michaela's medical bag down forcefully to the table, Sully and Brian looking up slightly shocked at the outburst.
"Calm down, probably just gone to the Clinic for something." Sully shrugged, not understanding the girl's motives for her extreme emotion.
"This is ridiculous, I don't care." Colleen collapsed angrily into the chair next to Brian, the young boy resting a hand comfortingly on her shoulder, concerned by her overreaction.
"Something wrong, Colleen? Seemed tense for a while now," Sully finished the glass of cider in front of him, noticing Grace moving from table to table in the distance, handing out slices of pie for dessert.
"I said I wouldn't say nothin'," she muttered under her breath, Brian leaning closer in childlike fascination.
"Colleen, if something's wrong, how do you know I can't help?" Sully was distracted by Brian's intrigued whispering into his sister's ear.
"Trust me, you can't. Briaaaannn." She swiped at the boy to her left, folding her arms impossibly tight across her chest.
The three looked up as Robert E. approached the table, his hands stuck deeply in his pockets, nervous worry plastered across his face.
"Ah, I, Sully," he elicited the man's attention, Sully directing his attention knowingly towards him.
"Something up, Robert E?" Sully read the concern immediately in his friend's eyes, arriving on his feet in less than a second.
Nodding discreetly, the Blacksmith pulled Sully away from the children's earshot.
"Ah, it's, Dr Mike. Don't think she's feelin' too well. She's in the alleyway by the Clinic." Robert E. gestured in the direction he'd just come from, Sully moving into a paced run, Colleen reaching immediately to grab Brian's hand when he rose from his chair.
"Colleen," The young boy resented being pulled back from a potentially interesting event. His older sister curled her finger back towards herself, Brian leaning closer towards her, eyes narrowing.
"Brian, you remember what I told ya, ya can't talk about. Think it's best to give Sully and Dr Mike some time alone. Then, hopefully all be out in the open," Colleen looked up, glad of the distraction when Grace handed both the children freshly baked pieces of apricot pie.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela's head was pressed firmly against the hard stone wall behind her, her cheeks itchy with dried tears, having eventually managed to overcome the nausea without anyone else noticing her.
Both hands locking on the sides of her skirt, Michaela frowned uncomfortably, discreetly tugging at the waistband of her dress, managing to tuck it half an inch higher underneath the tightly fitted bodice. Both her hands wiping momentarily over her face, Michaela was unaware of the approaching figure until he'd arrived only yards away from her.
"Michaela, ya all right?" Sully realized the foolishness of his question, when she immediately turned away, burying her head in her hands against the stone wall.
"Hey, what?" He reached for her shoulder, now less than half a foot from her, shaking his head, still at a complete loss.
"Leave me," She heard the breathiness and hoarseness in her voice, trying to wipe the remnants of tears from her face.
"Told ya, I ain't. Wanna help." He squeezed her shoulder lightly, Michaela cringing and shrinking from his grasp, eventually turning slowly back around towards him.
"Well you can't," Michaela's reply was direct, her voice bitterly sarcastic and cold.
"I don't understand. Has someone said something? Was it the play? Michaela, that was only a play," Sully nodded his head knowingly, deducing the underlying ethos of the play was responsible for her distress.
She broke her eyes from his gaze, focusing instead on a collection of pebbles several feet away, in the middle of the walkthrough.
"Look, even ya own kids are worried 'bout ya. Please, just," Sully knew whatever it was that was upsetting Michaela, was obviously something significant enough to throw her into such silence. He knew it would just take some determination.
"Sully, just go. I'll be fine. Just go back with the children," she begged, feeling hopelessly trapped and pressured.
"They're fine. It's you I'm worried 'bout. Michaela?" Sully slid his left hand from her right shoulder down to her upper arm, knowing she'd give in within a few minutes and talk to him, as she had done only a week before.
"Let go," Michaela tried to pull her arm from his grasp, frowning and locking eyes immediately with him, when she felt his fingers tighten more firmly against the fabric of her sleeve.
"Not until you tell me what's goin' on. This has been goin' on for too long, now. The children are on edge, no-one knows what to say to ya Michaela. We've all tried to be as supportive as we can but Colleen, for one, can't take any more. You gotta meet us halfway," Sully looked down at his hand still tightly wrapped around her upper arm, knowing he wasn't actually causing her physical pain, however speculating that if he pushed her just far enough, they'd get to the bottom of all this.