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X.O.X
Friday, 20th August, 1869
One Day Later - 17 Weeks Gestation
X.O.X
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Michaela felt her head sink back deeper against the soft pillows, as her eyes opened slowly and adjusted to the sunlit room. Looking around at the vague familiarity of the empty room, Michaela saw a large window to her left, the fine lace curtains of which flowed gently in the wind. To her right was a door, the only distraction from the bland walls and floor. She was lying on her back and could feel the blankets pulled tightly across her body. It wasn't until she moved her head slightly, in an attempt to push herself into a sitting position that she realized it wasn't the weight of the bed linen she could feel.
A horrified strangled cry sounded from deep within her throat, Michaela confirming her fears, when she locked eyes on her large stomach. Her breath was held in her chest, her hands clutched the floral colored patchwork quilt either side of her body.
Her breathing increased sharply, as she felt the intense pain grip her, catching her off guard and throwing her into a terrified panic.
"No, what, what's happening? Where," Michaela unconsciously brought her hands to her stomach, looking around the room once again, desperate for an explanation.
"Please, ah, this isn't meant," Michaela gasped an awkward breath of air into her lungs, trying to determine where she was and what exactly was going on. She let the air leave her chest again in a muffled groan, her hands clenching closed as she heard the wooden door open across the room.
"Sorry 'bout that Doc. Just had to get a few things. Everythin' all right here?" The older, dark haired woman bustled into the room excitedly. Carefully setting the pitcher of hot water down on a small brown table near the foot of the bed, she turned back to Michaela, a consoling smile of understanding appearing on the midwife's face
"Charlotte? I don't understand. Why are you… ohh," Michaela's attention was pulled back to what she could only discern as a vice-like pain which ripped through her lower body.
"Ssh, everything's all right. You just try and relax there. Ain't gonna be too much longer now," Charlotte sat carefully on the edge of the bed, reaching forwards to place a wet towel across Michaela's forehead.
"I don't understand, this isn't meant to be happening. You're not meant to be here," Michaela looked around the room quickly once again, her mouth dropping open in confusion.
"Hardly gonna let ya go through this alone, now, am I?" The midwife stroked her friend's arm softly with her left hand, her right resting tenderly on Michaela's stomach.
"But, I'm not going through this. I'm not having this baby. Am I?" Michaela's eyes glistened over slightly, her fear being exacerbated by the realism of both Charlotte's actions and words.
"Well, I sure ain't about to trade places with ya, had my three. Now don't you worry, know it seems frightenin', but everything's goin' along nicely. Had any more pains since I been gone?" Charlotte moved her hand gently across Michaela's stomach, before looking back up at her for a response.
"Before and then when you just came in," Michaela found herself slowly being pulled into the reality of the situation. Maybe this really was happening. The pain she had felt had been as real as she could have possibly imagined. No, How could this be happening? Charlotte was dead and she was not having this baby.
"Contractions gettin' closer then. Doctor's just comin'. Be holdin' that little one in a few hours," Charlotte adjusted the cloth across Michaela's forehead, wiping the perspiration from her cheeks.
"You're dead, Charlotte. How can you be here?" Michaela felt her shoulders tense, sensing that the blinding pain was about to return once again.
"Now, ain't that a lovely thing to say," Charlotte raised an eyebrow, her voice lowering in comical sarcasm. "know ya in a heck of a lot a pain, but still don't warrant talkin' to me," Charlotte shook her head, watching as Michaela endured yet another contraction.
"There ya go, all over. Breathe, that's it," Charlotte soothed, placing her left hand against the back of Michaela's right shoulder, helping her to rest back against the pillows.
"Please, I don't want you here. I don't want anyone here. Please, leave me," Michaela felt her face break out into a cold sweat. If this was really happening, she didn't want any witnesses. As much as she tried to reassure herself that this wasn't possible, the excruciating, petrifying racks of pain, told her otherwise. And if she was still carrying this child, then the utter repulsion that she felt towards the life inside of her still existed. A repulsion she knew would be shared by all around her. If they knew.
She doesn't know, Michaela. Charlotte will expect this child to be normal. You can't let her stay. You can't let her find out. This is your shame, Michaela.
"No, please go away. Please," Michaela gritted her teeth, glancing to her right, as the woman's hand left her shoulder.
"Now, don't be silly, I ain't goin' nowhere," Charlotte turned the corner of her mouth up into a dismissive smile.
Michaela saw the look of determination in the older woman's eyes. About to take a breath and oppose Charlotte's intentions, Michaela's attention was drawn to the sound of the door handle turning. She heard the deliberate footsteps as they strode into the room. Looking back across at Charlotte for an explanation, Michaela heard the familiar voice utter a low, concerned murmur.
"I trust everything is as it should be," The gray-haired man appeared completely in the room, turning to close the door behind him, the lock clicking loudly, as Charlotte met eyes with the Doctor, a short chuckle being emitted from her throat.
"She's doin' fine. Contractions about two minutes apart. Think it's takin' its toll, though," Charlotte smiled up at the experienced physician, the movement of the woman beside her causing her to reach for Michaela's lower arm.
"Oh my God, no," Michaela recognized her father in a heartbeat, and pulled her weight awkwardly across in the bed.
No. How is this happening. Charlotte, Father, no, I can't be here like this. I can't let them see me like this.
Charlotte rose from the side of the bed, stepping back to allow the Doctor access to his patient.
"Well then, hopefully it won't be too much longer. Everything all right, Michaela?" Josef placed his medical bag on the edge of the bed by Michaela's right hand, which lay tightly clenched.
She merely shook her head violently in response, her eyes darting between the two people before her, searching desperately for an escape.
"Father, no, I'm scared. Please don't make me do this. I can't do this," Michaela moved both her hands protectively to the thick blankets which were tucked firmly across her lower body.
"Calm down now. It is perfectly natural for you to feel such apprehension, especially the first time. Let me examine you, then we will have more of an idea how much longer you've to continue," Josef perched softly on the edge of the mattress, his right hand locking over Michaela's as he began prizing the white linen from her fingers.
"No, you don't understand. Please, both of you leave me. I don't need anyone's help," Michaela severed the physical contact by recoiling her right arm and increasing her hold on the bedding.
"Michaela, you're a doctor yourself. You know I need to check as to the progression of the labor. It's foolish to," Josef was startled by the emotional outburst which followed.
"No! I don't want you touching me! I don't want anyone touching me. If I have to do this, I'll do it alone. Get out!" Michaela felt her arms cross her chest to grip desperately to her upper arms, the terrified tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Michaela Quinn! I will not have you talking to me like that, under any circumstance! You'll do as you're instructed." Josef succeeded in peeling the heavy blankets from her torso, Charlotte coming to his side to restrain a now hysterical Michaela.
"Please! Please, don't touch me! Please, you'll hate me, you'll hate me," Michaela felt Charlotte's hands lock around her wrists, making any attempt to avoid the physical invasion impossible.
"Hush, all be over soon," Charlotte maintained the grasp of her fingers around Michaela's wrists, the younger woman letting out a final plea of protest as she felt her father's hands move against her stomach.
"No, no," Michaela felt her back slide against the pillows in a futile effort to free herself from the overpowering contact of both Charlotte and her father. It was pointless; the tips of his fingers pressed firmly against her hard abdomen, as the room began to brighten. It was difficult to see the two figures standing over her, however Michaela could still hear the sound of her own petrified voice.
"Please, stop! Stop, no," The room was nothing more than a bright light, but still she could feel his fingers against her stomach.
Michaela felt her arms able to move again, and the brightness slowly melded into distinguishable objects. A window, moving trees. She surfaced in confusion from the nightmare, and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight which entered the compartment.
It was then that she felt the continual presence of something against her lower abdomen. Opening her eyes completely, Michaela saw the crop of blond hair beside her, as she lowered her glance in an attempt to locate the source of the physical sensation.
"Mornin' Ma, ya gotta listen to this," Brian looked up eagerly towards her, adjusting the stethoscope in his right ear as he again moved the bell along his mother's stomach.
Michaela squinted against the golden stream of sunlight which filled the compartment, before being able to relate Brian's actions with the movements along her stomach.
"Brian, what?" Michaela gradually identified the stethoscope pressed into his ears, before looking sharply downwards, and, in an instant, connecting all the sensory information together.
"It's really great Ma, just like you showed me when Susanna's Ma had her baby last year. Can hear the heartbeat. Wanna listen?" Brian turned his head up with a large grin, pulling the stethoscope from his ears and offering it to her.
Michaela had managed to remove the bell of the stethoscope from her stomach, feeling her chest tighten as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
"No, Brian and don't you dare do that again," Michaela pushed the child's hands away, the young boy lowering his head in misunderstanding.
"But ya gotta. Thought ya'd wanna hear it. Come on, Ma, please?" Brian proffered the stethoscope towards his mother once again, his voice rising in pitch slightly with enthusiasm.
"I said no, Brian! Leave me alone!" Michaela rose quickly from the bench, oblivious to the shocked look of the older couple sitting opposite her.
"What did I do?" Brian looked at the stethoscope laying on the floor in front of him, having dropped from his grasp in response to his mother's furious reaction.
"I," Michaela felt her jaw tighten and her face redden. She glanced between the small boy, and then the older couple. Taking a step towards the doorway, she gripped the edge of her skirt tightly, "Excuse me," Michaela turned and fled quickly into the corridor, her breathing short and shallow. Continuing down the hallway for several moments, she replayed Brian's words over in her head several times.
Why had he done that? Had he really heard a heartbeat? Why did he have to tell me?
"I don't want to know. I can't consider," Michaela heard her whispered voice, as she stopped moving. Being the early hours of the morning, her surroundings were quiet. Allowing herself to lean up against the wall of the corridor, Michaela felt her eyes drop closed for several seconds, until she was quickly brought to her senses by a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Everythin' all right, Michaela?" Meg's soothing, rich voice filled the air, Michaela tensing automatically against the contact, before opening her eyes and taking a breath to reply.
"No I, I'm sorry." She felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. Lowering her eyes towards the ground, she was reminded of the content of her recent nightmare. Momentarily relieved that her stomach had returned to a far less obvious state, Michaela felt the emotional terror rebuild regardless.
"Wanna talk, then?" Meg smiled, clutching the wrists of the toddler who stood beside her. "We got an empty compartment. Come on, seein' as ya so upset," Meg gestured to the compartment behind her, Michaela too weak to resist.
"Thank-you," she whispered tiredly, being ushered into the small space. The younger woman slid the glass door closed and placed the child on the floor amidst a collection of toys.
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X.O.X
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"I know how ya must be feelin'. Downright cramped and uncomfortable after two days a this." Meg seated herself awkwardly on the padded bench across from Michaela, her right hand resting automatically on her swollen belly.
"It's not that. I mean, that certainly doesn't help but well, I'm not enjoying this." Michaela let her shoulders rest back against the cushioned backing, feeling the discomfort return to her lower back.
"I understand, especially seein' as you're traveling all this way by yaself, 'least I ain't all on me own." Meg smiled down at the young child playing contently with a wooden train on the floor beside her.
"I thought?" Michaela frowned momentarily, not sure as to whether or not Margaret had alluded to her husband's presence the night of their first conversation.
"No, David's just been with several of his work colleagues for the mornin', been lookin' after this one in the afternoons, at least gives me a break. What about you? Your husband not have a problem? Sending you all this way to see a doctor and then expectin' ya to travel all on ya own?" Meg baulked slightly, tilting her head to give Michaela a confused, yet worried glance.
"No, I, well, I'm not," Michaela dropped her head, not caring by this stage. It's not like she'd ever have to see this woman again. They'd be arriving in a few short hours, so it didn't matter what she said.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed." Meg blushed, looking away with momentary embarrassment. As rude as it was to take her friend's marital status for granted, she could not deny the sweeping intrigue that grew following Michaela's disclosure.
"I'm used to it. You weren't to know." Michaela tightened her jaw closed firmly, feeling uneasiness wash over her.
A long, awkward pause ensured, Meg looking from the entertained child back to Michaela, the older woman keeping her head lowered, her eyes mesmerized by the sight of her fingers locked together in her lap.
"Look, feel free to tell me ain't none of my business but ya seemed awful upset before. Even now, you seem uncomfortable. Is there," Meg trailed off, the small sob passing from Michaela's lips enough to answer her question.
"I'm sorry," Meg rose from the bench opposite swiftly, and took a seat on Michaela's left. She passed her a fresh handkerchief, not expecting the older woman to turn abruptly, and collapse her weight on her shoulder. "Here, sorry I was pryin', ain't none of my business." Meg rested a hand nervously on Michaela's left arm, and adjusted her seating on the narrow bench.
"I just feel so, alone. I don't even know you, but you're the first person I can talk to, Meg. Perhaps it's because I don't know you." Michaela felt the warmth of the younger woman's woolen shawl under her chin. She knew such an emotional display was improper; she didn't care.
"Well, how about startin' with why you've felt like there's no-one you've been able to talk with. Don't you have friends, family?" Meg moved her right arm to Michaela's back, her voice tentative and non-threatening.
"Yes but," Michaela heard her voice fade, images of her sisters, the townsfolk and the children coming to mind. "But it's not really something I can expect anyone to understand." Michaela felt Meg's soft hand against her back, and was in that instant, tempted to believe that the woman's comfort alone could free her from the nightmare she was facing. The two remained locked together, sharing a comfortable, understanding silence for several moments.
Michaela pulled her head away the instant she heard the door move behind her.
"Ma, ya all right? Ya still mad at me?" Brian clutched to the side of the wooden door, his gaze alternating from his mother to the stranger beside her.
"Sweetheart, just go back to your seat and sit quietly." Michaela felt her cheeks tingle as the tears that had formed ran along her warm skin.
"Hey little guy. What's his name? How old is he Ma'am?" Brian pulled his eyes away from his mother to observe the toddler playing on the floor several feet away.
"This is Christian, he's just turned two," Meg attempted to answer the small blond-haired boy's question, although unable to conceal her curiosity as to his identity.
"Can I play with him?" Brian was easily distracted from his mother's obviously distressed state by the exulted chuckle that the toddler gave out in response to the attention.
"Well, maybe later, we're just," Meg looked up to see Michaela's lifeless expression, before bending down and helping the two-year old to his feet. "Here, how about you take Christian back to your seat? He just loves trains." Meg watched as the little boy stepped further into the room, taking the younger child's hand with an excited grin.
"Sure, Ma'am, I love 'em too. That all right, Ma?" Brian loosened his grip on the toddler's hand, afraid his mother would disapprove.
"That's fine, Brian," Michaela dismissed, her shoulders dropped in a drawn-out sigh as the two children left the compartment.
Meg waited until Brian had slid the door closed, before turning her attention back to Michaela and picking up where she'd left off. "Didn't think you had any children, yet?" Her question was stated softly enough, with only the faintest hint of accusation.
"I don't, I mean, Brian's mother died two years ago. She entrusted her three children to me. I should have mentioned it. When you asked who I was traveling with, I just thought. I suppose it was easier if you assumed it was with another adult. I'm sorry, the other night, I didn't really feel like talking. It's all so complicated, and it will sound silly but, I liked being able to talk with you, without having to explain." Michaela felt her eyebrows tighten together at the guilt of having neglected to be completely honest.
"No problem, as you said, you don't know me. I don't blame you one bit. The world's so judgmental these days. Ain't none of my business anyway, just thought, well, what happened this morning to make you so upset?" Margaret moved the conversation back in the intended direction, seeing Michaela begin to drift off into her own thoughts once again.
"I, I had a very peculiar dream. It was rather frightening. Does that, I mean, is that normal?" Michaela unclasped her hands, resting them either side of her body against the floral padding of the bench.
"Oh, was that all was botherin' ya? Oh my goodness, yes. Why when I was getting near the end with Christian, had the strangest dreams. Real realistic too. It's probably just nerves, especially given you're new to all this." Meg reached spontaneously across to grasp Michaela's wrist with a chuckle, surprised at the unconscious flinch.
"Sorry." Meg frowned, searching for Michaela's attention in the emptiness behind her glazed-over eyes.
"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I just wish I knew what was wrong with me." Michaela shook her head despairingly, as she rubbed the moisture from her cheeks with the back of her left hand.
"Oh, honey, you're havin' a baby. Ain't nothin' goin' mess ya around more. Much as I love being pregnant, in several months I'll be givin' anything just to get my old body back again." Margaret winced, her left hand massaging her stomach in response to the kick she'd just received, "Right on cue. Start to feel as if your body doesn't even belong to you after a few months, like it's not your own, you don't get a say in any of it," she sighed with a small smile, before leaning back further against the bench, in a desperate attempt to increase her comfort level.
"I haven't felt that my body was my own from the start. Maybe that's what's making it worse. I feel as though everything's so out of control, without my permission. I know why this terrifies me so much, but knowing is little comfort." Michaela moved her hands from her side, bringing them around her body, her intention unclear; Margaret studied the gesture for several moments, unable to determine whether the woman beside her was attempting to further conceal her condition, or display an albeit unattached gesture of affection towards her unborn child.
"Forgive me but you don't strike me as, did you even want to be pregnant?" Meg chose her words very delicately, her eyes searching Michaela's for an initial emotional response. Within the older woman's large eyes was a dead stillness. Meg was about to change the subject, considering the question perhaps too personal, when the woman opposite her dropped her head, her reply almost inaudible.
"No," Michaela lowered her head further, her voice hoarse and clouded by the tears that had begun falling from her eyes. "You might say I didn't exactly have a lot of choice in the matter." Her eyelids twitched as she glanced in fascination down at the small snag on the edge of her satin skirt.
Margaret frowned and was unable for several moments to discern the older woman's meaning. Alternating her gaze from the woman's hands curled around her torso, to the direction of her glance, Meg felt a harrowing comprehension occur.
"But surely you knew the chances? You knew the risks. Oh, Michaela, I'm so sorry. I just assumed you were married." Meg felt the cold wave of shock pass over her face and shoulders, the previous conversation she'd had with Michaela now falling into place.
"I'm not. Not that it was ever that much of a priority, but I took it for granted that it might at least be my decision." Michaela let her eyes drop closed, seeing Sully's departing form from the night of the play trail off into the darkness in her mind.
"Ain't ya got family, though? I mean, ain't there somewhere you could go 'til this is all over with? Ain't there people who can help ya?" Meg tried to think rationally, however finding it difficult to fight the anger building up inside her that a woman she had formed a genuine affection towards should be facing such a crisis.
"Not really. I haven't been able to tell many people," Michaela sighed softly, bringing her head up slowly and meeting eyes with the woman sitting opposite her for the first time in minutes.
Meg nodded several times, sensing the older woman's underlying reasons. "You mustn't blame yourself. I don't care what nobody says, somethin' like this can't be your fault." Meg became lost in her own understanding; truthfully she wasn't sure if she believed her own words, however, had no way of knowin' if a pregnancy under these circumstances could have been avoided.
"Please, I'd prefer if we didn't. I wanted to tell you the truth, and I've done that. I don't know what I expected you to say but I didn't wish to deceive you any longer." Michaela turned her gaze back to the window, trying to settle her breathing.
"Of course, I'm sorry. Here I am goin' on about my youngin', and how wonderful I've found it and, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, I'm just so sorry." Margaret watched carefully as the woman opposite her lifted her head; her expression cold and isolated.
"Just don't tell me you're sorry one more time. Forget I mentioned it. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened you, but I knew my behavior may be rather uncharacteristic," Michaela kept her expression frozen, her lips barely moving as she uttered the emotionless reply.
"Thank-you for findin' the courage to tell me the truth. I just wish it hadn't of been two hours before we'll be partin' comp'ny. Look, unless you don't want to, would really like to keep in touch, gotta be due within a month of each other and, well, if I can be of any help." Meg slipped her hand into the carpet bag beside her, locating a crumbled letter and tearing her address from the front of the envelope.
"I really don't think," Michaela felt a tightness return to her chest, about to politely decline the offer of friendship, however, not having the heart when she noticed the warm smile cross the younger woman's lips as she slipped the address into her hand. "All right." Michaela forced a small smile, turning to gaze at the passing countryside, which was gradually becoming more dense and populated.
"Well, with the move, gonna take me awhile to meet anyone and, I like you." Meg paused before stating her final three words, managing to catch Michaela's eye, the physician drawn in by the unhindered honesty in the woman's eyes.
"Thank-you." Michaela clasped the delicate paper more tightly in her left hand, moving her right to finish dabbing at the dried tears on her cheeks.
"You stay for a few minutes. I'll just go see if your son needs rescuin'." Margaret rested her right hand on Michaela's arm for several moments, before standing and slipping out into the hallway without another sound.
Michaela turned her attention back to the window, the familiar faces from her earlier disturbed sleep filling her mind. She now felt more confident in her dismissal of the content. Perhaps it was completely normal; regardless of her uniquely traumatic circumstances.
Soon, Michaela. Soon it will all be over. You will have your life back.
Pulling her gaze from the window, Michaela looked down reluctantly to her stomach. She couldn't tell whether it was outwardly obvious or not by this point; somehow knowing the truth made it seem visually unmistakable. Michaela gingerly rested her right hand against her firm abdomen, and took several long, deliberate breaths; knowing exactly what was happening inside of her; and knowing once again that her planned deed was the most repugnant act of violence she could consider, with only one exception.