Thanks so much for all your reviews!! Please keep them coming!! Again there is dialogue in this chapter from the Tempest episode which I don't own.
The next day dawned bright and fair and, looking back, Rebecca would always wonder how things could change so quickly and with such drastic consequences. She woke early, unable to sleep and left Preston lying sprawled across the bed, his hair flopping into his eyes, his breathing steady and rhythmic. She was downstairs making breakfast before either he or his father emerged. When they did, she and Preston exchanged a secret, knowing smile, each remembering the passion they had shared the previous night. They had just wanted to be with each other and it had been the most perfect moment they had shared in a long time.
"Is everything all in order for this afternoon?" Preston Senior asked as they sat at the table.
"Yes Father," Preston replied. "All I need is for my investors to arrive on time and everything should run like clockwork."
"Good. You want to start by making the right impression."
"I have every confidence in Preston's ability to make the hotel a success, today and every day," Rebecca said, reaching over and squeezing her husband's hand.
"Quite," Preston Senior replied, "but your knowledge of business is hardly extensive."
"Rebecca did run the farm, Father," Preston reminded him.
"To the point of having it repossessed by the bank."
Rebecca was furious, "I did not…"
"Father, Rebecca is eminently capable," Preston interrupted, "It was bad luck that she lost the farm, not bad management."
"Well, it all turned out well in the end, so I understand," Preston Senior said. "From what Preston's told me, your tenant appears to be making a good job of it."
"Yes he is," Rebecca replied as evenly as possible, "I have no complaints."
"Of course, Preston will need you at the hotel. Good hostesses are hard to come by," he smiled at her as though passing a compliment.
"I already have a job, sir, but I intend to help Preston in any way I can," she replied.
"Ah yes, in the general store," he commented, his tone derogatory. "I think you must be the first Lodge wife in history to have a job."
"Well I'm pleased to be bucking the trend," Rebecca replied as amiably as she could, though she longed to stand up and thump him. Later, as they were riding to town in the surrey, she closed her ears to the sound of her father-in-law's voice, proclaiming his so-called wisdom, and gazed out instead at the Fall scenery.
As they arrived at the station, Preston Senior imparted more words of wisdom. "Remember Preston, you want your investors to feel powerful and important."
"Father, I think seeing the hotel, the fruit of their investment, will make them feel important," Preston replied. He paused to help Rebecca out of the surrey and she smiled encouragingly at him.
As they stepped onto the platform, they heard Horace talking to Sully and Brian. "Sully, the train was delayed. It's stuck a few miles past Monument."
"Stuck?" Preston echoed, hurrying over, "What are you talking about?"
"I just got word there was a terrible storm, trees and branches blowing all over blocking the tracks."
"It can't be," Preston groaned, "Not today."
"It is," Horace replied, shooting him a disdainful look. "Wire said it was raining and blowing so hard that homes and buildings getting torn up. It'll take some time til they clear the tracks."
Preston turned back to face his father. Rebecca looked between them. "Preston, perhaps we should postpone the ceremony until we know the storm's passed."
"The tracks will be cleared," he said, looking at his father. "We'll wait." Preston Senior nodded approvingly.
"Why don't we get some coffee at Grace's?" Rebecca suggested.
"Fine," Preston said. As they made their way back towards the surrey, he took Rebecca's arm and held her back. "I only hope this all works out in the end."
"Of course it will," she replied, "and even if it doesn't, it's not the end of the world."
"No," he agreed, watching his father's back. "No it isn't."
XXXX
The atmosphere at the hotel was good, despite the greyness of the sky and the increasing wind. Guests were all milling around the front entrance. The building had been decorated with banners and balloons and, as they pulled up in the surrey, Rebecca couldn't help feeling a surge of pride on Preston's behalf. He had worked so hard for this moment and she only hoped that the rain would stay away until after the ceremony.
As they pulled to a halt, Hank and Jake sauntered up. "Where's all your high class investors?" the latter asked.
"Their train was detained," Preston replied.
"There's a big storm," Andrew added helpfully from his seat in the back next to Rebecca.
"It's not coming here," Preston said, glancing at the sky. "I've already sent some carriages out to pick my investors up. We'll begin as soon as they return and then it's straight back to my plan."
"I think your plan's about to change," Hank laughed, holding out his hand to catch the first drops of rain.
Preston climbed out of the surrey and helped Rebecca out, glaring at Hank as he did so. "Darling," he turned to her, "would you mind going inside and checking that everything's in order?"
"Of course," she replied. "Hank. Jake."
"Rebecca," they both touched their hats as she passed.
She went inside and had a final look around. Everything looked perfect. All of a sudden, however, it seemed as though night had descended. The sky became dark, the wind picked up and sheets of rain started to fall. Leaving the warm parlour, she headed back out onto the veranda where Preston and his father were standing.
"Your investors are not coming, Preston, you'd best move things along," Preston Senior said.
"Yes sir," Preston agreed before stepping out onto the podium, trying hard to ignore the rain. He motioned for the band to stop playing and then addressed the guests. "Thank you everyone for your patience and welcome to the grand opening of the Spring Chateau and Health Resort!" As he spoke, lightening flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled. "Reverend!"
The Reverend stepped out quickly into the rain, holding onto his hat. "Preston, perhaps we should take the ceremony inside!" Preston ignored him. "Perhaps we should take the ceremony inside now!" He turned on his heel and fled back to the safety of the veranda.
Preston remained where he was on the podium, watching in despair as the crowds flocked past him and onto the veranda. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he himself was now soaking wet and, for a moment, he closed his eyes against the scene around him, unable to believe it had come to this.
Rebecca stood poised on the edge of the veranda, not knowing what to do or say. She made a move to step out and go to him, but his father, took her arm, preventing her. "Don't be foolish, my dear," he said firmly. She turned and glared at him, pulling her arm out of his hold as the banner which had been fixed to the top windows suddenly broke free and blew away. "Preston!" he shouted over the raging wind and rain, "Are you just going to stand there?!"
Preston closed his eyes again, "No sir."
At that moment, Rebecca darted out into the squall and over to where he was standing. "Preston! Preston please come inside!" He didn't reply. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, "Darling…" He turned to look at her and she saw the misery and defeat on his face. "Darling, please…"
Preston suddenly seemed to come alive. "Rebecca! Darling, you're soaking! Get inside, come on!" He climbed down from the podium and hurriedly steered her back onto the veranda.
Everyone surged into the hotel and stood in the hallways and the parlour rooms stamping their feet and shaking off the rain. The band hurriedly set up in a corner and began playing again, their instruments dripping with water. Preston ordered his staff to light the fires and then turned back to where Rebecca was shivering slightly in the doorway.
"You should get dried off," he said.
"There's too much to do," she replied, shaking her head and peeling off the small jacket she was wearing. "We need to entertain everyone until the weather eases. I'm going to go and see if Grace and Robert E need any help in the kitchen. Perhaps we can lay some of the food out and help take everyone's minds off of what's happened."
"Perhaps," he replied, catching sight of his father coming towards them.
"Preston, you need to do something to keep your guests amused," he declared.
"We're aware of that, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said.
"As soon as you knew the weather was turning, you should have made a contingency plan," he continued.
"A contingency plan?" Rebecca echoed. "Excuse me, sir, but how exactly do you think we were supposed to know what was going to happen with the weather? It's been unfortunate, that's all. We couldn't have foreseen it!"
"Rebecca…"
"No, Preston!" She shook him off. "I am tired of having to constantly defend ourselves to your father who has done nothing but criticise since he came here and accepted our hospitality." She turned back to her father-in-law. "Perhaps if that was all you intended to do here, sir, you should have stayed in Boston where your opinions are either welcomed or merely accepted. But I will not have this in my own hometown and certainly not in my own home! Quite frankly, the sooner you return to Boston the happier Preston and I will be! Now," she turned back to her husband, "if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going to see what I can do to help." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed away in the direction of the kitchen.
Preston Senior turned back to his son, "Well. Your wife is nothing if not forthright."
Preston paused as he was about to meekly agree, but then his own anger took over. "You're right, Father, she is. And I love her for it and wouldn't have her any other way. And since you have made it abundantly clear from the start that you neither like her nor accept her then I'm sure you will be eager to return home as soon as possible." With that, he left his father standing open-mouthed with surprise.
XXXX
Twenty minutes or so passed with the rain and wind continuing to howl around the hotel while those inside tried to make the best of things. Preston went around his guests apologising for the problems and found most of them to be fairly accepting of the fact that he couldn't have prevented them while Rebecca assisted Grace in the kitchen, despite the latter's protestations.
All of a sudden, however, there came a holler from outside. "Twister!"
Everyone surged to the windows to look out and, on the horizon, was the unmistakable finger making its way towards them. People began screaming, running about, not knowing where to go or what to do. Rebecca, hearing the commotion, emerged from the kitchen. "What's going on?" she asked one frightened looking elderly woman.
"Tornado!" Came the reply and fear immediately coursed through her. In her time in Colorado Springs she had only ever encountered one tornado in the past when she had been five years old and at least ten people had been killed.
"Preston!" She hurriedly tried to make her way past people back towards the parlour where she had last seen him. But as she pushed past people, the lights suddenly went out, plunging the entire hotel into darkness. People started screaming and she found herself pushed and jostled in the process. The noise of the wind was incredible, drowning out the screams and shouts of the people inside and the building began to shake against its foundations. Up ahead, she could hear windows smashing and the sound of glass hitting the floor. The grandfather clock at the door shuddered and then fell forward at her feet, causing her to jump back. "Preston!" she screamed his name again.
"Rebecca!" She turned and saw him coming towards her and rushed forward into his arms. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, relieved to be touching him, "you?"
"Have you seen my father?" he asked.
"No," she replied as more windows began to shatter around them.
"We have to find someone to hide!" he said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her along with him.
"But what about the others?!" she shouted, though she knew even as the words left her mouth that everyone was too scared and out of control to listen to any one person.
"Come on!" he replied, pulling her towards the stairs. Underneath, there was a cupboard housing various equipment and he pulled inside and closed the door. "Get on the floor!" he ordered her and she did as requested. Then he lay over her, protecting her body with his as the noise raged around them.
Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut tight and prayed for it all to be over.
"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen," Preston said, his voice at her ear.
She didn't reply. She didn't give a hoot about the hotel so long as everyone survived. "I love you," was all she said.
Preston pulled her close. "I love you too."
XXXX
Eventually the sound of the raging wind slowly began to die away until, suddenly, there was calm. Sunshine began to break through the heavy clouds as though night was suddenly giving way to day. The initial peace didn't last long as people started crying out and there was the sound of creaking wood and breaking glass as people moved from their positions, desperate to get outside and away from the building.
Preston, still lying over Rebecca, pulled himself to his knees and looked down at her. "Are you all right?"
Rebecca sat up and pushed her hair away from her face, "I think so." He opened the door of the cupboard and light poured in. She turned to look at him and saw there was blood on the front of his jacket. "Are you bleeding?" she said, moving towards him.
He looked down at his jacket and then lifted it to look underneath. "No." He looked back at her, "It's not me, it's you." He pulled her back to him and saw that the back of her dress was sliced open and there was a long, angry looking gash oozing blood. "My darling, you're hurt."
Rebecca twisted around to look at it. "I didn't feel anything," she said. "It must have been earlier from the breaking windows."
"We need to find Andrew and have him take a look at you," he insisted, getting to his feet, taking her arm and helping her up. He pushed the door open wider and propelled her back into the corridor.
"I'm not badly injured," she protested, "Andrew will have his hands full with those who are..." She trailed off as she took in the devastation. The hotel which had once looked so beautiful now appeared to lie in ruins. Broken windows, smashed glass, upturned furniture…
"Well you need to sit down at any rate," Preston said, swallowing hard.
"I want to help," she protested, "people need help and the hotel…" even as she spoke, however, she started to feel a bit woozy and light headed and reached out to place one hand on the wall to steady herself.
Preston leapt forward and put his arm around her waist, "Darling, I insist that you sit down. Please!"
"All right," she replied weakly. "I'll…I'll sit down." He propelled her out into the bright sunshine and steered her to the steps.
"Sit here for now," he instructed her, clearing a space and helping her to sit. "I should go and see if my father's all right."
"Yes," Rebecca said, "you should. I'll be fine here."
"Promise me you won't move," he said.
"I promise," she replied, "Go."
He searched around the hotel but couldn't find his father. As he stepped back out into the sunlight, he surveyed the devastation. There were upturned wagons littered all around, wounded people wandering back and forth as Andrew and then Michaela began tending to them. As he turned back to where Rebecca still sat on the steps, he saw two men come out of the main entrance carrying a body on a makeshift stretcher, a woman following behind sobbing. His heart sank. People had actually died in his hotel.
Just at that moment, he saw his father coming outside holding a handkerchief to a gash on his head. "Father!" he said, hurrying forwards, "I couldn't find you anywhere."
"I was…helping some people out of the parlour when some beams collapsed…" his father explained.
"Here, let me," Preston said, reaching to help him.
"No, no, don't fuss over me," he said. "You should see to the others." He glanced to where Rebecca was watching them. "And to your wife." With that, he turned and walked away from them.
"Rebecca?" Michaela appeared beside her friend. "Are you hurt?"
"Not really," she replied, "I've cut my back, that's all."
"May I look?" Rebecca obliged and turned. "It'll need cleaned. I'll have a wagon take you back to the clinic so that I can do that."
"She had an attack," Preston said.
"I didn't," Rebecca said, "it was just the shock. I'm sure it was nothing out of the ordinary."
"It wouldn't hurt to have you checked over," Michaela said. "Preston, are you injured?"
"No," he replied. "I'll stay here just now and…" he broke off as he once again surveyed the mess. "I'll come by the clinic and collect you once this mess is…" he broke off again. "Then I can take my father to the station."
Rebecca got to her feet, "Preston, I shouldn't have said to him what I did. It was uncalled for…"
"No," he interrupted her. "You were right." He bent and kissed her on the cheek. "You were right." He watched as Michaela helped Rebecca into a wagon along with other injured people and waved wearily at her as they made their way back towards town. Then he walked around and around what had once been his pride and joy, his hotel, now ruined.
"You've only course of action Preston," his father said joining him. "Rebuild."
"Yes sir," Preston replied, wishing it were that easy.
"You've had a setback son. It's part of business. You know how much adversity I've had in my career. Misfortune only made me stronger. I learned from it then moved on. Ever forward. That's the Lodge way." He clapped his son on the back and Preston regarded him with surprise. It was the first time ever that his father had ever opened up to any extent about the problems he himself had suffered and it was probably the first encouraging words he had heard for a long time.
"Yes sir," he said finally. "You…uh…you don't want to miss your train, Father."
"No," Preston Senior said. "It's not been quite the Thanksgiving I expected…"
"No," Preston said. "I'll fetch the surrey, take you to collect your things and then take you to the station."
His father looked at him, "That would be fine son."
Later, having been back to the homestead and quickly changed, Preston took his father back into town, stopping off at the clinic to collect Rebecca on the way. "How are you feeling?" he asked, helping her into the surrey.
"Fine," she replied, eyeing his father warily, "Michaela gave me some ointment for the cut and said it should heal in no time."
"That's good," Preston replied. He urged the horse on to the station and pulled up at the edge of the platform. He climbed out and Rebecca made to follow suit, but Preston Senior turned and stopped her.
"You should stay in the surrey," he said, almost kindly. Rebecca opened her mouth to make a cutting retort but he beat her to it. "It was a pleasure meeting you again, Rebecca."
Convinced there was some sort of implied sarcasm behind his words, Rebecca glanced at Preston but he looked equally as surprised. "And…uh…and you," she replied somewhat unconvincingly. He smiled at her again before climbing down from the surrey.
"I'll only be a moment," Preston told her before following his father onto the platform where the train was waiting.
"Well you've got your work cut out for you now, Preston," his father said. "Fortunately you're a capable young man."
"Father." They shook hands formally before Preston Senior made to board the train. As he watched, Preston felt overcome with the need to express everything he had ever felt towards his father. He wanted to tell him how he felt he had never earned his praise or admiration. He wanted to tell him how hard he worked in Colorado Springs and how he felt his father didn't seem to understand. But he also wanted to tell him that he was his father and, despite everything, he loved him. He stepped forward, "Father, I…"
Preston Senior turned and stepped down again. "Speak up son."
Preston paused, open-mouthed and then thought better of it. He could tell by his father's expression that he knew. "I hope you have a safe journey home."
Preston Senior paused for a fraction of a second and then stepped up onto the train. Turning, he looked back down at his son and Preston smiled slightly and inclined his head before his father disappeared into the carriage. Seconds later, the whistle blew and the train began to slowly pull out of the station. He watched it go, somewhat relieved that his father was leaving but also terrified and worried by the tasks that lay ahead.
When he got back to the surrey, Rebecca was waiting patiently. "Is everything all right?" she asked as he climbed back in.
"Yes," he replied, "everything's fine. I'll take you home and then I have to go back to the hotel to see what needs to be done." Clicking his tongue, he urged the horse forwards back out of town to their home where he helped Rebecca inside, made her some tea and then left her. Later, when he returned, he would tell her how the townsfolk had gone to the hotel to help clear up and how grateful he had been at their kindness, even if he wasn't able to show it.
Six weeks later
January 1872
"Well that looks to be healing well," Michaela said, examining the gash on Rebecca's back. "Has it been giving you any more pain?"
"No, it's been fine," Rebecca replied. "The ointment you gave me worked a treat."
"A few more weeks and it'll be gone completely," Michaela said. "You might have a small scar but it shouldn't be noticeable. You can put your dress back on now." Rebecca did as requested. "How have you been feeling generally?"
"Fine, especially now that the hotel's well on the way to be finished. We thought the repairs were going to take forever but you could hardly tell now that there had been a storm at all," Rebecca replied with a wry grin.
"Any more attacks?"
"It wasn't an attack," Rebecca said, "but no. I've felt a little sick over the last few days but I think it was some chicken we had a few nights ago. Preston decided to cook and it didn't work out too well."
Michaela turned from where she had been writing in Rebecca's file. "Sick?"
"Just a little nauseous," Rebecca said, buttoning up her dress. "It passes fairly quickly.
Michaela moved over to stand in front of her. "When do you feel like this?"
"In the mornings, but like I said, I think it was some bad chicken."
"Has Preston been sick too?"
"No, but he has a strong stomach." Rebecca looked at her friend. "What?"
"When did you have your last period?"
Rebecca thought back. With all the stress of Thanksgiving and Preston's father and the hotel repairs, and then a fairly quiet Christmas she couldn't quite remember. "A few months ago I think, why?"
"Have you experienced any other symptoms other than nausea?"
"Not really. I'm a little tired, I suppose. It's been busy at the store…" Rebecca stared at her, "Michaela, you're starting to frighten me."
"I'm sorry," Michaela replied, "Would you mind lying back for me?" Rebecca paused and then did as requested. Michaela pressed down on her stomach gently. "I know this is extremely personal but have you and Preston been having regular relations?"
Rebecca felt herself blush as she thought back, "Well…we're married. I…" Michaela stopped and looked at her. "What is it?"
Michaela sighed, "I think you may be pregnant."