"Right, I've had, we've all had, enough of this bitterness from you. You wanna tell me exactly what's going on?" Matthew demanded, once they had arrived into the empty library and he'd closed the door.
"What?" Colleen raised her eyebrows innocently, the moodiness in her voice still detectable.
"Don't give me that, you've been as snappy as hell ever since we got here yesterday, and ain't said more than two words at a time to Ma. You've been downright mean to her. Then there's that comment over breakfast and just now, you had absolutely no right!" Matthew folded his arms, and leaned back against the closed door.
"So? She deserves it," Colleen shrugged, looking across at the sea of books all around her.
"No, she doesn't. She don't deserve your nastiness. You heard Sully. She ain't goin' through with the abortion, she's havin' that baby. So you ain't got no reason to keep bein' so vicious, so," Matthew pushed himself away from the door, as he searched for the right word.
"But not if it were up to her, she wouldn't be. Up to her, she'd a murdered that poor little baby yesterday, and right now it'd be like nothin' ever happened," Colleen forced herself to concentrate on her older brother and not the tempting collection of literature, that had her almost mesmerized.
"That, ain't true, Colleen. She told me she'd had doubts before yesterday. If ya wanna know the truth, she felt she had to do it. Felt it'd be too hard for us, people talkin'," His sister cut him off in a loud, harsh voice.
"That's ridiculous! She's just thinkin' about herself. Tryin' to save herself the humiliation," Colleen retorted sharply.
"Ain't true, Colleen. Think about it, if she was really more concerned about herself than us, you think she woulda made it back home alive four months ago? Colleen, the only reason she didn't let herself get killed out there, is because she loves us." Matthew saw his sister's eyes squint slightly, not knowing whether or not to completely trust his words.
"Now, I know how angry you are about what she planned to do, and I know how angry you are that she took Brian, but, you need to accept, she's confused, scared. She's tryin' to do what is right for everyone, all at once. She needs you to be there. We all need to be together. Can't you just forgive her? After the sacrifice she's made for all of us, she deserves a second chance. She's done the right thing in the end, Colleen." Matthew watched his sister's face begin to mellow only slightly.
For a moment, he thought his words had been convincing, however, saw the fury return to his sister's eyes.
"But that still don't excuse what she's done," Colleen fought back, "She ain't allowed to break the rules just coz it suits her. You've heard her. What about when the town got sick with the epidemic, she's all for justifyin' her actions then, 'I have to put my health after my patients', when it suits her, but when it comes right down to it, she's just usin' it as an excuse to do what she likes," Colleen folded her arms tightly across her chest.
"You're bein' too hard on her. He violated her, Colleen. He forced himself on her and now she's carryin' that child. How can you not understand that pain? How can you forget that?" Matthew looked up at Colleen's outburst.
"I ain't forgotten, all right! You think I ever forget? I was there, with Miss Dorothy when they put her down in front of us. More dead than alive. And where were all you? Outside! Out sittin' around, where it was calm and clean," The young girl dropped her head, seeing her hands open in front of her. "You weren't in there, Matthew. You didn't have to see all the bruises, all the blood." She looked up at him, wringing her hands together violently. "and I didn't know what to do! She coulda died and it woulda been my fault!" Colleen gasped, Matthew stepping forwards to lock his hands over her shoulders firmly.
"Colleen, you saved Dr Mike's life, everyone knows that. And even if ya hadn't, it wouldn't have been your fault." He kept his eyes locked on his sister's.
Gradually, the frustration and loathing in her eyes began to dissipate. Matthew remained silent, watching, as the corners of her mouth slowly dropped; the contempt fading from her expression. And, very slowly, her face darkened, into a blackness; a sadness.
"I know," her cheeks twitched, and her forehead wrinkled, her eyes beginning to cloud over with tears. "It was awful Matthew. Seeing all the blood; knowing how much he hurt her. Was just easier to hate her. If I hated her, I couldn't be scared for her." She pursed her lips together incredibly tightly, although not able to stop the tears roll one by one from her right eye, then her left.
"It's all right. We can't be strong all the time," Matthew swallowed, not sure if his upcoming revelation would reignite her anger. "Colleen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't realize how upset you'd been. I suppose, not actually bein' in there. I didn't realize how real it would have been. How frightenin'. I'm sorry I weren't around, too busy worryin' 'bout Ma, or Brian." He moved his hands from her shoulders, to the sides of her arms.
"As much as she tries to convince all of us she's strong, I know she ain't. No-one's that strong." Colleen shook her head, again feeling the warmth of Michaela's abdomen underneath her fingers, as she wept into her brother's chest. "And every time I try to force myself to hate her for what she's done, I see her, lyin' there. I feel her cold hand in my own. The blood drained from her face; all the blood." Colleen drew her hands desperately to her face, rubbing her eyes, as if trying to erase the images from her mind.
Matthew had no words of comfort for his younger sister. So, the pair remained in the center of the room, Matthew's arms locked around her back, as Colleen rocked against his chest, still rubbing her wet eyes and cheeks.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela pushed the bedroom door closed behind her and crossed the room, dropping her small blue purse onto the bed. She arrived in front of the dressing table, noticing her blushed cheeks from the cold and her wind-swept hair.
With a tired sigh, she pulled the two combs from the back of her head, reached for the hairbrush and sat down, bringing the brush through the first mass of tangled hair.
In the time it took for Michaela to fix her hair back into a neat braid, the redness had faded from her cheeks. She placed the brush back on the corner of the dressing table, noticing the paleness of her face.
"It's no wonder he wanted to know where I'd been," she shook her head and wearily stood from the table, the inviting mattress providing the much sought-after comfort she'd been seeking.
Michaela rolled over onto her left side, adjusting the pillow under her head, feeling her body sink further into the soft bedding. As she let her eyes drop closed, she could feel the tension in her lower back fade.
Have I done the right thing? Perhaps I should have taken William's advice. Perhaps that was my second chance, and I've lost it once again.
She sighed, moving her right had to her abdomen in response to the familiar movement.
But I couldn't, I just couldn't.
She stroked the top of her stomach through the thin layers of her blouse and chemise.
Perhaps I was just weak. Perhaps I had to make that tough decision but, it just felt wrong.
Her eyes opened slowly, watching the wind move the white lace curtains around the window very gently.
I have to accept part of the blame for this. I chose to live.
Michaela squinted, her eyes dropping closed once again. The two worlds are so different. No-one so much as questioned my survival back home. She chuckled lightly, except Hank, of course.
Here, well, no-one dares say it, but they still think it. 'She was too easy', 'she lost control', 'she let him'. I'd have probably thought the same if I'd stayed here.
She drew a replenishing breath, rolling onto her back. But it's not the same here. If I'd have been out walking alone in the middle of the night, then yes, it would be my fault. If I'd deliberately put myself in danger, then,
She opened her eyes, staring up at the ornate ceiling.
But didn't I? That is exactly what I did. I knew the dog soldiers were raiding and I chose to go out there. But I had to. I knew best, didn't I? Matthew, Sully, they both tried to talk me out of it but, no, I assured them everything would be fine.
Maybe women just aren't meant to be doctors.
Michaela frowned, bringing her left hand just below her right on her stomach. She felt the feather-like movement brush just under her left hand.
"All right, I take it back," she looked down, thrown by her automatic response.
Michaela pulled her hands sharply away from her abdomen, letting them drop to her sides against the quilt.
The movement stopped.
Feeling the dull ache begin once again in her lower spine, Michaela rolled over onto her right side, secured her hands under the pillow and dropped her eyes closed.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
After her talk with Matthew, Colleen had wandered aimlessly back through the house, eventually settling down in one of the large armchairs in the living room, to read. She opened the dark green, leather-bound book, removed the crocheted bookmark, and stared blankly at the writing before her.
Focusing her eyes, still crusty from crying, Colleen tried to shift her attention to the black ink against the dull white pages. She couldn't. The words were empty; she read several lines, knowing she didn't care about tobogganing, or snow fights. She replaced the bookmark and closed the book, feeling the uneasiness return to her stomach.
It was irreconcilable guilt.
She sighed, running her fingers along the edge of the book. Matthew had been right. How could she have been so cruel? That wasn't who she was.
"Miss Colleen? Lunch, dear," she looked up upon hearing the voice; Ellen smiled from across the room.
"Yes, Miss Ellen." Colleen rose to her feet quickly, walking behind the chambermaid through the entrance foyer. Colleen paused, when Ellen turned to head up the stairs to her left.
She quickly deduced the older woman's intentions. "Miss Ellen? I can go get Ma," she touched the woman lightly on the shoulder.
"Oh, no dear, please. You go to the table," she insisted, Colleen shaking her head and moving up the staircase.
"Really, it's all right. I want to," Colleen reinstated, the maid having no choice but to agree and move back towards the dining room.
Colleen paced to the top of the stairs, suddenly feeling apprehension sweep over her.
What if she thinks I'm going to say something awful to her again? What if she beats me to it?
She swallowed as she arrived outside Michaela's bedroom once again. Taking a deep breath, she tapped on the door lightly.
Colleen waited, running her tongue along the inside of her cheeks, before knocking once again, slightly louder.
"Ma?" she uttered, reaching for the door handle.
She waited.
Nothing.
Biting her lower lip, Colleen very carefully turned the knob, and pushed the door open slowly, expecting a verbal protest at any second.
Once she had stepped into the room, however, the nervousness fell from Colleen's face. Michaela was sound asleep, laying on her right side, her hands in front of her, her eyelids peacefully closed.
"Ma," Colleen whispered, crossing the room.
Still nothing.
Colleen picked up the edge of her skirt and bent down quietly by Michaela's bedside, gripping the edge of the mattress lightly. She studied her face carefully, not knowing whether or not to wake her.
She looked over the smoothness of Michaela's skin, noticing the precisely shaped lashes extending from the bottom of her closed eyelids. Colleen felt the heaviness fill her chest and she had to look away, knowing she'd said things to her mother she could never take back.
"I, I'm sorry, Ma," she whispered, although could barely hear her own voice. "I'm sorry I didn't try to understand better. I'm sorry I didn't support you," she paused, seeing Michaela's pursed lips move slightly.
"Ma?" the young girl repeated, kneeling closer towards the bed.
A smile came to her lips, as Michaela remained fast asleep.
Everything Matthew said was right. I was a selfish little kid, only thinking about myself. Never even tryin' to put myself in Dr Mike's shoes.
She moved her hands from the edge of the mattress, clasping them together and picking at a rough nail.
Would I have done anythin' any different? What if it had been me? I don't know. What are the rules? What are you meant to do? Colleen frowned and sat back on her heels. Ma never talked about it. No-one did. I always knew bad things happened, but it was always girls that put themselves into bad situations. Hank's girls, or girls that were easy.
She cringed, remembering the incident with Richard at the kissing tree. Did I do somethin' wrong? No, it was only a kiss, but we were alone. Was I puttin' myself in danger? Was it like the others were sayin' last year? Was I easy? Am I one of those girls that let boys do stuff? Could it happen to me?
Again, her teeth found her lower lip.
No. There's a difference. Isn't there? Dr Mike said, she said kissin' was just the first step, that, it could lead to worse stuff. Was she warnin' me? Was she just tryin' to scare me? Was I just lucky?
No. It's different. It's different when you know the boy. Like Lewis. There is nothing wrong with me bein' alone with him, he's Mr. Bing's nephew, for heaven's sake, I know him. Ain't nothin' wrong with Dr Mike bein' alone in the woods with Sully, and I've known Lewis longer than that.
So where do you draw the line? When is kissin' not all right? Sully used to kiss her all the time and that was all right. How do you know who you can trust? How do you protect yourself?
"Ma, I really am sorry. I'm sorry he raped you, I'm sorry you got pregnant and I'm sorry you have to have this baby," she raised her head as she spoke, her voice still low.
It's not the baby's fault, but I can't blame her for hatin' it. What if, what if people don't understand? Matthew almost didn't. Lots a people won't understand either, that you can get pregnant even if you don't want to. What if we go home and people don't believe her?
Colleen's eyes widened, as she moved her gaze from Michaela's face to her enlarged stomach.
"Ma, I'm sorry I didn't understand all the things you were runnin' from. But you don't have to worry. Sully, and Matthew and me, we know it weren't your fault. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before. I'm sorry I didn't try to see it through your eyes." Colleen reached tentatively for Michaela's right hand, which lay by her side.
As she slowly slipped her fingers between her mother's thumb and palm, Colleen allowed herself to notice the warmth of her touch. It's all right, the young girl reassured herself, tightening her grip slightly against her mother's hand.
It's all right, it's gone, she repeated clearly in her mind, as she delicately turned Michaela's hand over, and inspected her knuckles and fingertips.
It's over.
Colleen reassured herself, as she placed her mother's hand back down against the mattress.
No, it's not, a small voice nagged at her. Colleen dropped her eyes closed, and willed the voice away. Yes. It's over for now, she reaffirmed and clasped her hands against her skirt.
"Ma, lunch is ready, wake up. Dr Mike?" she smiled, noticing Michaela not budge until the final two words had left her lips.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she recognized the girl sitting beside her.
"Colleen?" Michaela voiced quietly, opening her eyes, and becoming more alert.
"Wanted to come see if you were comin' down for lunch?" she swallowed, feeling guilt melt into nervousness.
Michaela blinked several times, as she comprehended the question. "No, I, please send my apologies. I'd rather rest for awhile longer," Michaela muttered, as she noticed the change in Colleen's facial expression. A softness. Her eyes were calm.
"All right, I'll tell Miss Ellen." The young girl smiled, and stood up from the side of the bed.
"Thank-you," Michaela whispered, her eyes falling closed again, as she curled her arms back up under her head.
Colleen crossed the room to the door, about to turn and reply, "Dr Mike, I," she trailed off, a larger smile spreading over her face, when she realized Michaela had already fallen back to sleep.
Opening the door as softly as possible, Colleen departed from the room, closed it again with equal care, and descended back down the staircase.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
The Cooper children, Sully, and Rebecca ate lunch in relative silence, Brian occasionally asking the odd question. By the time they finished, it had just gone twelve-thirty.
"Been over an hour," Sully glanced up at the old grandfather clock across the dining room.
"I asked her if she wanted to come down for lunch," Colleen shrugged, her manner having become far less outgoing and her voice much softer the last few hours. "She said she wanted to rest."
Rebecca nodded, and added to the young girl's reply, "And Ellen took her up a tray," Rebecca glanced across to the small, rounded chambermaid, who nodded with a polite smile.
"Yes, Ma'am, Miss Michaela was in bed," she spoke curtly, and stopped abruptly in response to the man's quick movements.
"I've had enough of this," Sully pulled the napkin from his lap and threw it down in exasperation on the edge of the table.
"Mr Sully, wait. Perhaps it would be better if I check on her? She's spoken with me. I wouldn't want either of you to become more upset," Rebecca rose to her feet smoothly and gently slipped the napkin to the side of her plate.
Sully nodded, feeling hurt by the fact that Rebecca seemed concerned about him upsetting Michaela. He watched her leave the room silently and reflected on the altercation at the bottom of the stairs earlier that morning. Maybe she had a point. Tact certainly wasn't his forte, not at the moment.
He was beyond tact.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Rebecca knocked twice and, receiving no verbal response, slowly opened the door. "Michaela?" she whispered again, stepping into the room, and closing the door.
"I don't want to talk about it," Michaela, curled up on her left side, was facing the window, layers of sheets and quilts over her.
"Then we don't have to talk about it." Rebecca crossed the room and perched routinely on the edge of the mattress. She glanced around the lavender painted room, realizing never, in her almost twenty-four years of marriage, had she spent so much time in this bedroom.
Michaela remained quiet, her breathing slow and even.
"Sully said you went to see William this morning," Rebecca queried, her voice nonjudgmental.
"I said I didn't wish to discuss it," Michaela reiterated, Rebecca able to hear the strain in her voice this time.
"Michaela," she considered her words carefully, "Nobody is trying to control you, to dictate what you should or shouldn't do. We are all just worried about you. It's not that we're demanding answers from you because we disapprove of anything you have done or haven't done, we just are worried. We want to support you," Rebecca could hear the angered phrases from the conversation that morning play over in her mind.
"We? You mean Sully," Michaela whispered after a pause.
"Yes, I mean Sully, I mean all of us. I'm sure Sully didn't mean to sound so condescending earlier, he was just scared. From the moment Brian told us you'd left, he was scared."
"I feel as though everyone is trying to tell me what to do, as if I'm not my own person anymore," Michaela pulled the quilt slightly tighter over her right shoulder.
"I know. I felt the same when I was first married. Mother was so distant, and Father treated us all so differently than most men," Rebecca reflected on the struggles she'd had to adjust to married life. She'd never said anything; just nodded politely and accepted her husband's directions, and then, quietly gone about things in her own way regardless. She smiled; her sister on the other hand, was much more vocal in her defiance.
"He didn't expect us to be answerable to him. He was always there if we needed advice, but he didn't treat us like he owned us." She subtly rolled over onto her back as she spoke, looking at her sister for the first time.
"I know, and it was hard going from that freedom to, the real world," Rebecca chuckled, looking around the room in indication.
"But why does it have to be that way?" she frowned and clasped her hands under her chest.
"Because we have to accept the responsibilities we have to the people in our lives. In some relationships, it is about control and ownership; in good relationships, it's about trust, honesty, but mostly about respect. Michaela, Sully wasn't demanding that you tell him where you'd been because he wanted to know; he was angry because he was frightened you'd gone back to William's, were putting yourself in danger, and because you came through the front door, looking considerably distressed and unkempt. His concern just came out as anger, and Michaela, you haven't exactly been the most predictable lately." Rebecca phrased her final sentence very tentatively.
"I know," Michaela sighed. "I just overreacted to him. I felt like I'd been a naughty child and stayed out too late," she shrugged, "It wasn't that long ago Matthew and I were having this same argument. He wanted to get married. I said he was too young. He demanded to know why he was answerable to me, and I said because he was still a child, and living with me," Michaela shook her head, "Well that just made things worse; he moved out. Eventually, he realized, we both did, that it wasn't about me being the adult, the parent, but about me being concerned for him and I've gone and made the exact same mistake," she chastised herself, as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
"I don't even want to think about going through that with Edmund Jr. Although, I suspect my husband will take the less diplomatic approach, and simply say, 'you'll do what you're told' and that will be that. Of course, I'll smooth things over but then that is what I always do," Rebecca smiled, as Michaela reached for her hand.
"Thanks, Becca." Michaela squeezed her hand more firmly.
"Don't mention it. Why don't you come downstairs?" she gestured back towards the closed door.
"All right," Michaela conceded, and managed to untangle herself from the array of bedclothes.
Rebecca stood and watched with a warm smile as her sister paced around the end of the bed to arrive next to her. "Michaela, I," Rebecca hesitated, still realizing the subject was rather delicate. "How about we go out, just the two of us, this afternoon?" She arrived by the door and opened it, continuing the conversation as they moved along the corridor.
"Out?" Michaela looked up curiously.
"Well, shopping," Rebecca tried to soften the blow, "clothes shopping," she emphasized, preparing herself for a multitude of emotional responses.
Michaela shrugged, not immediately catching her albeit very faint meaning. "You, mean me?"
"Well, I wouldn't imagine you're feeling particularly comfortable at the moment, and now that you've decided," Rebecca hated having to be so awkward around something that is ordinarily such an exciting event.
"I, I've decided but I," Michaela swallowed, glancing downwards, realizing that even with the waistband of her skirt pulled up two inches higher, it was still proving a struggle to fasten each morning. And undergarments were another difficulty entirely.
"Nothing over the top, I promise. Just the two of us. There's one shop in particular, Maureen, Claudette and I have been to. The lady's name is Bridget and she's very sensible, none of that pretense you sometimes have to tolerate." They slowly descended the stairs, Michaela warming to the idea reluctantly.
"All right." Michaela rolled her eyes, relenting.
Rebecca couldn't stop the smile which slowly broadened on her face.
"Honestly, I don't know why I ever try resisting you, you always get your way." Michaela shook her head.
"Do I?" Rebecca flashed a knowing grin, both chuckling as they went their separate ways at the bottom of the stairs.