Colleen sat, head rested in her hands, gaze lowered towards the desk in front of her. Olive remained less than a foot to her right, a hand softly clasping the young girl's shoulder.
"Just gotta try and put it outa your mind, trust that she'll do what she thinks is best," Olive whispered, having no better words of comfort.
"But she ain't thinkin' at all. Just wish there was something we could do to stop," Both women looked up as the door across the room suddenly opened, causing each to visibly startle.
"What's, Colleen?" Matthew stepped into the Clinic, pushing the door closed quietly behind him, looking between Olive and his sister, having sensed the tension in the room.
"It's all right, Matthew. Colleen's told me about Dr Mike's… predicament," Olive turned back to the young girl, who reached again for the letter that had been returned to the small desk drawer.
"Matthew, you, you gotta do something. Here, just found this," Colleen pushed the chair back, rose to her feet, and crossed the room to her brother's side.
"Now tell me what she's doin' ain't a problem," Colleen raised a single eyebrow, clasping her hands defiantly around her waist, waiting several moments for Matthew to begin reading the correspondence.
"You went snoopin'? This ain't any of our business," Matthew lowered his eyes back to the slightly crumpled pages before him, having only managed to get through the opening paragraph.
"How can you say that? From the sounds a this, Dr Mike's gonna end up killing herself tryin' to get rid a this baby. Ain't ya at all concerned?" Colleen looked across to Olive for support, the young girl's shoulders dropping in defeat.
"Still don't think it's somethin' we've got a right to have any say over. it's up to her and, well, she's a doctor, she'd know more than you or I put together about, stuff like this," Matthew frowned, slowly beginning to take in the directness and arrogance of the letter.
"But what if she doesn't care about the risk. Isn't there anything we can do? Can't we stop her?" Colleen brought her right thumb to her mouth, unconsciously beginning to chew on the nail.
"Just a minute," Matthew raised his right arm to calm his sister, quickly finishing the handwritten letter before him. "Right, well, from the sounds of it she'd be mad to try and see this guy. But also, we don't know how much she's told him. Maybe once she can meet with him, or someone else. Maybe once she talks properly with someone, they'll be able to help her. I still think it's wrong for us to chase after her. We don't even know where she's really gone," Matthew folded the two pieces of paper back neatly, taking several steps across the room and sliding the letter back onto the edge of the desk.
"Well, if she's gone to see that guy, then she's gone to Boston, which would make sense, she'd know more people there. I just feel useless waitin' around like this, each day. How are we even gonna know if, I mean, what if, something happens and Brian's left all by himself, he won't know what to do. Just can't believe she's bein' this heartless. This selfish and cruel!"
"Colleen, I think your brother's right. Your ma needs to deal with this on her own and whatever she decides, I think you need to find a way to accept that." Olive's face was soft and nonjudgmental. Matthew locked eyes with her instantly in agreement, before bringing his right hand to his sister's upper arm, stroking her shoulder gently in an effort to soothe her.
"Why am I the only person who thinks this is wrong!" Colleen's voice cracked, as she arrived by the door and threw it open.
"Wait, where're ya," Matthew jogged quickly after her, as Colleen pulled away from her brother's grasp. She arrived out on the porch.
"Supper, Grace's. I can't think about this anymore," she replied weakly, as Matthew and Olive exchanged glances.
"As good an idea as any, I'd say," Olive patted the young man's back as they moved through the doorway.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela felt the numbness along her right arm intensify, not having realized she'd been asleep until her eyes fluttered open. Removing her stiff arm from the windowsill, she looked around the tiny compartment, illuminated only by the moonlight. Both Matthew and Marilla had managed to fall asleep on the uncomfortable bench seats, and Brian rested snuggly against her left shoulder.
Taking several quiet breaths, Michaela watched her left hand run up and down the boy's arm, and in that moment was glad of his company. Feeling his head nuzzle more firmly against her shoulder, Michaela noticed the dull ache radiating from her lower back. She awkwardly managed to disentangle herself from the sleeping child, and pulled herself to her feet, moving as slowly and quietly as possible, so as not to wake anyone.
Once she was alone in the narrow corridor, Michaela could hear her discomfort voiced in an exhausted sigh. Realizing that slow walking was probably going to be the only way to relieve the pain, she reluctantly began to massage the small of her back. Michaela raised her head gently, thankful that the pain had minimized, and commenced an even pace along the corridor.
Having taken no more than four steps, Michaela dropped her hand instantly at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice.
"When are you due?" The woman's light-hearted giggle trailed off into the silence of the carriage.
"I beg your pardon?" Michaela's startled response was obvious, her sharp words coming out in automatic defense.
"I've just gone five months, was comin' out to do the exact same thing. It's impossible to get any decent sleep cramped up on those hard seats," The woman's voice, although slightly ragged, continued in moderate chirpiness. She brought both hands to her back, a smile of sympathetic understanding coming to her lips.
"Oh I," Michaela gradually took in the woman's genuine affection and non-threatening tone, before considering her tentative reply. "I'm seventeen weeks," she felt the honest words slip easily from her mouth, reminding herself confidently that no-one knew who she was out here; there was no need to continue pretending.
"Why on earth we chose to travel, I'll say," The younger woman rolled her eyes with another warm smile, both women making their way slowly along the corridor.
"I wasn't really expecting the discomfort to be this severe," Michaela glanced back over her shoulder, as the pair arrived in the larger, more open area at the end of the carriage.
"Must be your first," the brown-haired woman's reply was tainted with humor. Michaela's acknowledging nod was almost undetectable, as she turned to gaze through the window of the door, the night sky decorated only by a collection of stars and the small, crescent-shaped moon.
"Well, if it's any consolation, my second pregnancy has been a lot easier. All the while I was carrying Christian, I was just too busy fretting about something going wrong. I thought every little pull or pain was a disaster, everyone says how resilient babies are but I didn't realize it until I'd been through it for myself." She leant back up against the wooden wall of the first compartment, studying Michaela's distracted gaze through the window.
"Don't mind me going on. I'm Margaret. Margaret Armstrong, but please call me Meg, everyone does." She extended her hand politely forwards, tilting her head, unsure as to whether the gesture would be reciprocated. The woman standing opposite her appeared uneasy, nervous even, although the uncomfortable journey may have just whittled away at her nerves.
"Michaela Quinn, sorry, I," Michaela pulled her mesmerized gaze away from the window and shook her hand. The younger woman's small face appeared pale against the moonlight.
"Oh, don't apologize, please. My husband is always complaining he has to tell me things three times before I hear them," Meg continued, having noticed Michaela's eyes drift back towards the night sky.
"Michaela?" Meg repeated her name, her voice rich and beckoning.
Michaela frowned, the sound of her name having pulled her from the jumbled thoughts clouding her mind.
"Is everything all right? You seem distracted," Meg smiled weakly, remembering the blurred confusion that had plagued her throughout her first pregnancy.
"Well, yes, I suppose I am. I'm just not really used to this," Michaela dropped her eyes unconsciously downwards, before raising her head, locking eyes with Meg's.
"I was exactly the same, everyone was just so excited for us and offering me advice and for a few weeks, I just couldn't take it in. My mother loved to joke with me about it, she always calls it 'baby brain'. Forgetting things, crying at a minute's notice. Those sorts of things that no-one really talks about," Meg glanced momentarily back up the corridor, noticing the small boy appear from a compartment. Thinking nothing of it, the younger woman turned back to Michaela, and waited patiently for a response.
"And it hardly makes sense to plan a trip across the countryside on top of all that, now does it?" Meg chuckled at their collective foolishness, before continuing on a more serious note. "But with David's work, we really didn't have much of a choice and thought moving would be easier now than leaving it any later. Besides, only two days by train now. You, ah, traveling on your own?" Meg clasped her hands affectionately over her rounded stomach, looking back up towards Michaela, hopeful of a reply.
"No. Well, no," Michaela sighed, her quick instinct predicting Meg's reply before the words had even left her lips.
"Your husband?" Meg's voice was placid enough, however Michaela's reply overly succinct.
"No," Michaela's reply was closed; her cold facial expression quickly saw Meg move into a new subject.
"Well, Christian really wants a baby brother but I can tell David would like a little girl. I know it's what everyone says but I'm truly not bothered. I'm sure we're not likely to stop at two, David and I are both from large families? What about you, Michaela?" Meg brushed a loose strand of hair back over her left ear; a buoyant young woman, she was determined to extract a response from the shy, reserved, older lady.
"I'm the youngest, of five daughters, actually," Again her reply was curt, however the lingering inflection in the last three words conveyed to Meg that her persistence was beginning to pay off.
"So you'd prefer a boy? Try and break with that tradition." Meg's eyes glimmered in friendliness, seeing the awkwardness return, although this time much more briefly, to the woman's face.
"I haven't really thought all that much about it," Michaela felt her mouth dry at the deception pouring from her lips. In the same moment her eyes dropped closed for an instant, torturous hallucinations appearing on cue behind her darkened eyelids.
"Probably a lot easier that way. At least you can just have two names at the ready. Although, with Christian, that was never going to be his name. For months, David and I had decided on Emily if it was a girl, and Patrick, if it was a boy, as soon as he was born, I knew he weren't a Patrick. He had the most stunning blond wisps of hair. I knew he needed a softer, more angelic name," Meg reminisced for a moment, as she adjusted her position against the wall.
Michaela saw the moment as invitation to do likewise and delicately pulled the lilac satin skirt several inches higher from her waist.
"Oh, I was hopeless when it came to clothes with Christian. Determined I weren't about to wear those hideous baggy dresses my friend's had. Worked out fine in the end, my skirts just came up about an inch every month, until I was so big I didn't care anymore and eventually gave in for the last few weeks." Meg studied Michaela as she hesitantly looked between the younger woman's stomach and then back to her own.
"Don't you worry. Why, I didn't start showing with Christian till I was almost five months. Just depends, seemed to just happen overnight. Went to bed, woke up and there he was. Been more gradual this time around," Meg stopped abruptly at the sound of Michaela's hesitant response.
"I know, medically but, I, when did you first," Michaela fought against the physician calling on her to use more technical terms. She knew she had to say it more plainly; say it for what it was: "How many weeks were you when you first felt him?" There; she'd said it; she'd vocalized it. The mere notion caused a faint wave of nausea to wash over her; however, Michaela looked up, trying to focus on Meg's face for the reply.
"Think every woman's different but surely your doctor can tell you more about that, can't he?" Meg's eyebrows lowered, sensing a slightly naïve uncertainty about the way in which the question had be put to her.
"Oh, I know it's meant, apparently it's around sixteen to eighteen weeks, I was just wondering when you," Michaela couldn't believe she was asking such a question, although this young woman certainly appeared to be friendly enough. Somehow, such a personal question still remained outside of Michaela's realm of comfort.
"You know, I really don't remember, I'm afraid but then I weren't able to see a doctor until several weeks before he was born. All the information I was receiving was from friends and family and so I really was in the dark a lot of the time. You've not seen a doctor yet?" The concern in Meg's voice was perhaps more of an overreaction than was justified; however she was beginning to gain an understanding of Michaela's temperament; if she'd had no support, no wonder she was feeling overwhelmed.
"I well, that is why I'm traveling to Boston. There are several prominent physicians that I envisage will be able to be of assistance." Michaela heard the detached professionalism once again surface in her voice, and willed it away in frustration.
"Oh, you're not from Denver? Because the one I," Meg again trailed off when she noticed Michaela's dismissive head movement.
"Sure seems like a long journey, when there are perfectly good doctors in Denver," Meg shrugged, sensing that Michaela seemed uncomfortable with the direction of their current conversation. "How's your back?" she lowered her voice, looking back towards the long corridor.
"Much better. It's probably best we try and obtain some rest?" Michaela decided, gesturing courteously for Meg to proceed along the corridor before her.
"Listen, I'm reall sorry if I said anything to offend you. Once you've been there the first time, tend not to see it as such a private thing, 'least I didn't," Meg reached across to rest her right hand against Michaela's arm lightly.
"I should be the one apologizing to you, I'm afraid I'm not the best company at the moment," Michaela looked down at the woman's delicate fingers against the fabric of her jacket. It was the first time in over four months that another adult had touched her without expecting her to pull away.
"I understand. If you wish to talk, anytime. I'm sure I'll find you out pacing alongside me at some stage tomorrow night, that's if you don't run into my boisterous two year-old in the meantime." Meg smiled brightly, slipping her right hand back to her side and turning towards her compartment.
"Goodnight," Michaela whispered, before slipping through the door, Brian's 'sleeping' body twitching slightly in response to her footsteps.
~.~
X.O.X
Thursday, 19th August, 1869
One Day Later – 17 Weeks Gestation
X.O.X
~.~
Cloud Dancing turned his head slightly, hearing the distant barking of the approaching wolf. Smiling dismissively across at his wife, he gestured to Sully still many yards away. Snow Bird nodded in silent understanding, and returned her attention to the bowl of food in front of her. A smile came to her lips as she watched the two men meet.
"Did it help?" Cloud Dancing referred immediately to the quest Sully had spent the previous four days undertaking.
"Yes. Even though I had my doubts." He responded quietly, glancing down at his slightly tattered clothing.
"But you have found hope once again," Cloud Dancing's reply was phrased with conclusion, not as a question, and as such, he was not expecting Sully to continue.
"Not sure I'd call it that. I was able to find energy. Able to see that I need to put my selfish feelings aside. That the future I saw for us both is not what is important. And if I'm going to be the friend Michaela needs, I can't be holding onto a dream that will never be," Sully lowered his head, trying desperately to ignore the pained regret in his heart.
"Never is a long time, my brother but you are on the right path. For as long as you are working towards a goal that may be out of reach, you will not see what is right in front of you. If we are looking towards the sunset, we may not see the rocks that lay in our path." Cloud Dancing placed an arm strongly against Sully's shoulder, hoping his words would be understood.
"Seems like there are so many, but I've given her enough time. Even if she's still angry at me and I can't blame her for that but even if she is, then that's how it will be. I would rather that than to have nothing," Sully nodded slowly, patting his thigh to beckon the wolf to his side.
"Come, we must get you some food," Cloud Dancing noticed his friend's nervousness, and looked momentarily across to Snow Bird, before directing his gaze back to Sully.
"I should head back into town," The younger man objected immediately, however, his voice was raspy and weak.
"You need to be strong first. You have not eaten in four days. Sit with us, it will not take long," Cloud Dancing insisted, and raised his right arm back towards the small group of villagers settling down for their morning meal.
Sully's eyes flickered for several moments. His head turned back in the direction of the town, before reluctantly giving in and following his brother towards the small gathering.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela's eyes flew open at the sound of movement across the confined space.
"Oh, sorry dear, didn't mean to wake you," Matthew slowly finished folding the small blanket that had spent the previous night draped over his legs.
"It's not a problem, I wasn't asleep," Michaela adjusted her shoulders uncomfortably, looking down to see Brian clutched peacefully under her left arm.
"Sure makes it hard. Looks like someone had a pleasant enough rest though," Matthew gestured with a warm smile down to the young boy, his fine, blond hair splayed messily across his forehead, eyes still closed in sleep.
"You're right," Michaela brought her left arm back across Brian's sleeping form, gently rousing the child from his slumber.
"Aw, don't, don't wanna go to school," Brian squinted his eyes closed firmly, and buried his head in his hands.
"Brian, you're not going to school. Wake up, sweetheart," Michaela rolled her eyes, as Matthew chuckled lightly under his breath. She again squeezed the child's shoulder, and pushed him up into a sitting position.
"Huh, where? Oh, sorry, Ma. Forgot," Brian opened his eyes blearily, as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.
"It's almost time for breakfast," Michaela began fixing his slightly lopsided crop of hair, as Brian straightened out his jacket, aware of an obscure thought nagging at him.
"Matthew, oh, why didn't you wake me sooner?" Marilla removed the lacy handkerchief from over her eyes, as she turned to her brother in criticism.
"No need to worry, we're not late. Only just woke up myself," Matthew raised a hand to her wrist, trying to soothe her. He knew his sister well enough to sense the fear of making a spectacle of herself by oversleeping, was the motivation behind her chastising outburst.
"Well, that's, all right then. Morning Michaela, Brian. I trust you both slept, as well as can be expected given the accommodations," Marilla brought her hand to her gray bun, carefully removing the pins, she allowed the long braid to trail down her back.
"Mornin' ma'am," Brian replied vaguely, a frown crossing his face, trying to remember if the conversation he'd overheard the previous night was a dream or not.
"Ah well, must splash some water over my face at the very least," Marilla got awkwardly to her feet, crossing the room slowly to the door when the sound of the young boy's voice caused her to startle; albeit from content rather than tone.
"How come you didn't tell me you were havin' a baby, Ma?" Brian had determined the dialogue he'd been eavesdropping on from the corridor the night before was true. After all, it made sense; his mother was getting fat and maybe that's why Colleen had sworn him to secrecy. In an instant his brain began moving very quickly.
Michaela had been fastening the buttons of her maroon jacket when she'd heard the single, heart stopping word. Why? Why right then? He'd not mentioned it for the past four days; why right in that moment? She felt her breath catch in her throat, unable to even look upwards, feeling three pairs of eyes locked on her for a reply.
"Brian sweetheart, I thought Colleen had discussed it with you?" Michaela slowly lifted her gaze to glance to her left, Brian's mouth pulled into an awed grin. Michaela's reply was more in effort to change the subject than to provide an answer to his question.
"Uh-uh. Does that mean you and Sully are gettin' married? I thought you were mad at him." He knelt up eagerly on the edge of the seat, resting an arm affectionately on her shoulder, not comprehending that his intrigued utterance should be causing more than a little controversy.
Matthew got to his feet, unwittingly drawing attention to his presence when he heard the cracking sound of his knees.
"Excuse me," he smiled warmly, sensing the awkwardness of the subject matter, and desiring nothing more than to make himself very scarce, very quickly. Arriving by the narrow doorway, his sister's paralyzed intrigue blocked his way.
"Marilla, let's ah go eat." He applied an encouraging pressure to her upper back, knowing immediately that his older sister would not pass up the opportunity for some concerned meddling.
Brian, on the other hand, remained oblivious to the movement around him, his eyes lit up by the realization that had just dawned on him, not giving Michaela a chance to reply.
"Ma. Ma, is that why you got mad at Sully the night a the play? Coz you didn't wanna tell him about the baby. How come you didn't wanna tell him? How come Colleen knows but Sully doesn't?" Brian tilted his head, tapping his fingers on Michaela's shoulder slightly impatiently. This was exciting, and she wasn't answering him.
"Brian, I don't think this is an appropriate time," Michaela's voice was low and tentative, her words coming out in a much breathier manner than was her usual speech pattern. She reached for his right hand, brushing it deliberately from her shoulder, wanting nothing more in that instant than to literally melt into the floor.
"Oh, please don't mind us. Perhaps Matthew is right. Brian, why don't you show Matthew the dining car," Marilla extended a hand, expecting the young child to leave his mother's side without hesitation.
"Gotta come have breakfast, Ma," Brian got to his feet, pulling lightly on Michaela's right hand until she reluctantly acquiesced.
"Absolutely dear," Matthew sighed at Marilla's predictable interest, slipping in his ever-quiet way out into the corridor, the young boy appearing behind him.
"Sure sound happy about that, son. Thought you already had a brother, though?" Matthew turned his head to address the blond-haired child. Brian, after having ensured Michaela was following behind them, wasted no time in returning his attention to the conversation, his delight apparent through his slightly higher-pitched voice and speed of diction.
"Yeah, Matthew's sixteen. Colleen's fourteen," Brian failed to see what that had to do with anything.
"Well, then ya already got both a brother and a sister. Suppose you got a point though, will be different you gettin' to be the big brother now," Matthew ran his fingers through his moustache, hearing his sister's inquisitive voice commence behind him.
"Oh, just wish you'd said something last night. Can't have been very comfortable having to sleep in your condition. I wouldn't have even known to look at ya. When are you due, dear?" Marilla's eyes glimmered, regret tinged with jealousy that she'd never had a child of her own.
"I," Michaela suddenly realized she didn't actually know the answer to that question. She'd calculated backwards, but never forwards. Fortunately, that didn't seem to matter, the older lady's chatter continued regardless.
"Not that that means anything to a baby. Why, my sister had planned the exact dates of both her youngin', neither arrived on time. Your boy certainly seems over the moon about it though, and who is this Sully character? Certainly not Brian's father? And what about Brian's father, weren't you married to him?" Marilla idly muttered sentence after sentence, unaware of the anger and anxiety sweeping through every muscle of Michaela's body. It wasn't until she heard the physician's choked reply that she turned back and noticed the tears unwillingly collected in her eyes.
"I'd really rather not discuss it," Michaela swallowed, her teeth habitually gripping her lower lip as her eyes dropped away from Marilla's and down to the crimson carpet they were slowing walking along.
"Is Sully your pa, son?" Matthew and Brian continued several feet ahead of Michaela and Marilla.
"No, my pa left us, came back but then went off again on business. Sully's like a pa, though. He and ma been friendly for a few months. Thought they were gonna get married. Then, then Ma didn't want him around and she yelled at him but he doesn't know she's havin' a baby," Brian narrowed his eyes, having considered the chain of events as he relayed them; idly wondering for several moments just when his father would be returning.
"Well, in any case, running away like this is hardly going to solve anything. Surely as a doctor, I would have thought you'd known better than to get yourself into such a predicament. What must your family think? If you ask me, you need to do right by your child, and marry this Sully character without delay. No child deserves to come into this world without a father. Nor should one be expected to suffer for their parent's, improprieties," Marilla had remained unaware of the compounding effects her words had had on Michaela.
"I, didn't ask you," Michaela drew a panic-stricken breath, reaching for the material of her full skirt and breaking out into a hurried pace, as she turned back away from Marilla's side.
"Ma?" Brian frowned, looking up as Michaela, a hand covering her tear-stained face, moved down the corridor in the opposite direction, her distress masked as elegantly as she could manage.
Brian looked awkwardly between Matthew and the older woman, as Michaela slipped back through the carriage door, disappearing from view.
"Marilla, you been pryin'?" Matthew patted the young boy's shoulder consolingly, throwing a disappointed glare across at his sister.
"Certainly not. Just curious. Not my doin' if she can't handle the reality of her situation," Marilla felt the small child push past her and worriedly run after his mother.
"Now look what ya done, made little Brian upset too," Matthew muttered, turning away and arriving by the other door which led to the dining car.
"Well, it's hardly my fault," Marilla shook her head in confident denial, following after her brother.
Michaela had continued mindlessly through the carriage, until she'd arrived outside, the small open area secured with thin black railings. There was no fighting it; Marilla's words were the truth. Or at least they were the truth as everyone would see them. Michaela sighed, a familiar face appearing in her mind, realizing that the black marks against her had nearly doubled since she'd arrived in Colorado Springs.
"Stop it," she demanded to herself, taking several steps closer to the railing as anguished tears ran freely from her eyes.
"You're doing all your can. Crying isn't going to solve anything, Michaela." She gripped the thin railings tightly in her outstretched hands, the fury within her being decompensated into the strength with which her palms locked around the black iron bars. She glanced down at the edge of the train, moving speedily along the tracks that lay below her.
That would certainly be one solution.
Michaela let her eyes drop closed, tiredness and general physical discomfort washing over her as she momentarily assessed her internal state. Opening her eyes slowly, Michaela realized her gaze was still locked on the tracks below. An overpowering emptiness consuming her, Michaela allowed herself to lean forwards ever so slightly, until she felt her upper body squeezed between her arms, tilted several inches beyond the safety of the railings.
Her eyes closed once again, conscious of nothing other than the wind racing through wisps of her hair, the rushing air cooling her face, and the railings pressing firmly against her lower body. Michaela knew she'd probably only have to step up onto the first bar of the black steel, and, with the force of the wind.
"Ma?" Her thoughts were spontaneously pulled towards the child's voice. Michaela pulled herself back, almost guiltily from the edge of the railings, looking down innocently at her whitened knuckles around the chilling steel.
"Ma, it's all right, Ma," Brian carefully took half a dozen or so small steps until he had arrived by Michaela's left side, looking between her clenched hands and the tears still visible on her cheeks. He frowned, seeing her fingers tighten more firmly around the rail, looking up again as he heard her sobs intensify.
"I'm sorry I was eavesdroppin', Ma. Sorry I don't understand, Ma. You worried Sully ain't gonna wanna marry ya? Said he would though. Didn't he?" Brian reached his right hand forwards, until it came to rest over Michaela's left fist.
"Sweetheart, you're too young. It's complicated," Michaela swallowed, looking down at the sensation of the boy's warm touch against her skin. If he couldn't fully comprehend the situation, he was at least attempting to convey his support.
"But you're sayin' I'm gettin' older now, Ma. Said I ain't a child no more. Why can't you and Sully just get married? Then no-one has to know ya havin' a baby 'til then," Brian, despite his tender age, knew that you weren't allowed to be pregnant and not married, and he thought the situation could be simply resolved.
Michaela remained silent, her eyes still locked on Brian's small hand clutched on top of hers. She knew it must seem much simpler to him than was the reality; and foolishly considered his suggestion for a fraction of a second. An unnerving chill ran down her back, her eyes dropped closed once again, multiple images flashing behind her dark eyelids.
"No," Michaela muttered weakly.
Brian hung his head upon hearing his mother's dejected reply. Pausing for a moment, his attention quickly shifted to another, in his mind, equally important concern.
"Can we 'least go have breakfast, Ma? Matthew reckons they might have pancakes," Brian lifted his hand away from hers, turning back towards the narrow door still ajar behind him.
Michaela drew a replenishing breath, the cool, morning air biting against her face. Sensing the child leave her side, Michaela opened her eyes and moved her head around to check his location.
"Ya like pancakes, don't ya, Ma?" Brian smiled, his slightly crocked teeth exposed, as he extended his right hand forward once again encouragingly.
Michaela appeared to consider his question for a remarkably long time, before nodding softy and taking a step back towards him. She felt his small hand interlock with her own.
"I'll sit with Matthew's wife if ya want, Ma. Stop her talkin' to ya. How come women like that wanna talk so much? Just like Miss Dorothy," Brian pondered to himself, waiting for Michaela to slip through the door and back into the carriage before he did likewise.
"Might be best if we just sat by ourselves, sweetheart," Michaela tilted her head slightly, expecting a disheartened sigh from her son.
"All right, Ma," Brian trailed off, about to supplement his reply with an additional question, however something convincing him against it. Looking back towards his mother, he glanced thoughtfully between her stomach, her face, and back to her stomach again, before turning and continuing to lead the way through the carriage towards the dining car.