I went on a bit of a writing binge and turned this chapter around quite quickly so I thought, why wait until the weekend? I hope you like it and please review!!

January 1872

For days after Michaela delivered the news, Rebecca walked around in a fog of disbelief and fear.

She was pregnant.

Every time she thought about it, which was all of the time, her hand would drift to her stomach and she would imagine the life that was growing inside of her. Her child. Preston's child. It was the one thing in the world she had always wanted and yet had always feared. Since her marriage and inevitable lust for marital relations, she had pushed aside her thoughts and fears. She had tried not to think about her own mother and the steely determination which had almost won out and prevented her being with the man she loved had slowly started to fade. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

If Preston had noticed a change in her behaviour he didn't comment on it. He seemed to assume that she was merely tired and he didn't question her when he caught her staring into space. She had finally found the words to write to Louisa and express her sorrow over what had happened. Her sister-in-law had replied in a letter that seemed very calm in tone and yet which she knew hid despair. The doctors had told Louisa there was no reason why she couldn't conceive again and she was hopeful that would happen. In somewhat related news, she had divulged that Helen and Charles O'Connor had scandalously separated and that rumour had it Charles was questioning his son's paternity. Preston had greeted this news with disdain, telling her that there was no way Helen would have acted so rashly and, in any event, who else could the father be? Rebecca had wickedly suggested the child could be his which had put him into a bad mood.

At the end of the first week, she still hadn't found the right moment to tell her husband and, speaking with Michaela after church on the Sunday, she had to confess that her secret remained her own.

"You have to tell him," Michaela said in a low voice, glancing over to where Preston was talking to the Reverend. "He has a right to know."

"I know that," she replied, "it's just…it's difficult to find the right moment." She sighed heavily. "Is there a way that this pregnancy could be safe for me?"

"Nothing is ever completely guaranteed," Michaela replied, "but rather than leave your health to chance I would suggest performing a caesarean section around the time you were due. Hopefully a simple procedure designed to put as little strain on your heart as possible."

"I remember you mentioning it all those months ago when I told you I couldn't marry him," Rebecca mused.

"Once you've told him," Michaela said, "both of you should come to the clinic and we can discuss it all in detail."

That thought had comforted her, but it was another two days before the truth came out.

"I think it might snow tonight," Preston observed at dinner a week after Rebecca had found out about her pregnancy. "It was certainly cold enough today and we escaped it over Christmas."

"Yes," she said distractedly. She was approximately seven weeks pregnant, or so Michaela thought. That meant that her baby would be born at the end of August. A summer birth.

"Is everything all right?" Preston asked, observing her carefully.

"Yes," she replied, finishing her soup, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Was the store busy today?"

"Not really. I could have come to the hotel after all but then you just never know, do you?"

"No," he said, "you don't." He helped her clear away the dinner plates and then they sat by the fire, Rebecca reading Wuthering Heights and Preston going over some papers from the bank. He couldn't help but notice however that she barely turned any pages in the book and that her gaze frequently travelled to the fire and back again, as though there was something on her mind. She appeared in no mood to tell him, however, and he didn't want to press her. It was only later in bed, as he kissed down her throat and gently slid his hand up under her nightdress that her lack of interest became a problem.

"I'm very tired," she told him softly when he raised questioning eyes to hers.

Preston wondered if she had been suffering attacks and not telling him, "Have you been feeling all right?" he pressed, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her.

"Yes," she replied unconvincingly. She met his gaze and saw that he didn't believe her. "It's…well…"

"What?" he asked as she broke off. "My darling, if something's wrong you must tell me," he stroked her hair gently.

"Well…" Rebecca said as calmly as she could, "Nothing's wrong but…well…I have some news."

"Oh really? What?"

She looked at him, "You're going to be a father."

Preston seemed to freeze in the bed next to her. "What?"

"You're going to be a father," she repeated.

"I don't…"

"I'm pregnant, Preston," the words came out quietly. She looked at him hopefully, biting her lower lip in anticipation of his reaction. She wanted him to whoop with joy and scoop her up into his arms and tell her how happy he was. It didn't happen. The colour drained instantly from his face and he looked at her in horror.

"You're…but…" he stammered, "how…?"

"Michaela says I'm about seven weeks gone or thereabouts," Rebecca explained, "which would mean it must have happened when your father was here." She raised her eyebrows comically, thinking back to that night. "I was a little taken aback myself at first, but once the news sunk in…"

Preston moved away from her, "When did you find this out?"

"Last week." She reached for him, "I know that…"

"Last week?!" He practically leapt out of the bed, causing her to jump, and stalked over to the fire where he paced in front of it, shaking his head. "Last week?! Why in God's name didn't you say something?!"

"Because I was worried about how you might react."

"The night my father was here," he said, as though he hadn't heard her previous answer. "The night we had that conversation about him when we talked about my feelings towards him. You think it happened then?"

"Yes," she said.

His mind played back over that night. "We didn't use any protection that night."

"No."

"Did you wash yourself afterwards?"

"No."

He turned to her, his eyes flashing angrily, "Well why ever not?!"

"Because…" she paused, "because I was exhausted, because it had been a wonderful moment and I was…" she wasn't sure how to describe it.

"Careless?"

"I wasn't careless," she replied, though she was now starting to feel slightly guilty.

"Well what would you call it then?" he demanded.

"I suppose it was an…an accident," she replied, looking away. "Besides, I didn't see you leaping out of bed and taking any responsibility yourself!"

"Oh, so I'm supposed to remind you every time, am I?" He glared at her. "Rebecca, this is exactly the scenario we have spent the last seven months since we married trying hard to avoid!"

"Maybe it won't be as bad as we think," she said unconvincingly.

"You could die!" he exclaimed. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"Of course not…"

"You almost wouldn't marry me because you were afraid of this happening! You were so terrified to even think about the prospect of me making love to you and now, here you are, telling me you're pregnant as though you were announcing you'd purchased a new hat!"

"How would you rather I felt about it? Would you have preferred to come home and found me on the floor prostrate with grief and worry? Sobbing and rending my hair?"

"This shouldn't have happened," he said, turning back to the fire. "We should have been more careful. This is…it's…" he broke off, not sure what else to say.

Rebecca paused for a long moment, "Michaela told me that we should go to the clinic to discuss it with her."

"Discuss what?"

"The best way of dealing with it. She said that she can perform a caesarean section when the baby's due so that there are as few complications as possible." She waited, but he didn't reply. "Preston, I thought you might have even been a little bit happy."

He turned back to face her, abject pain in his eyes, "Happy? Happy at the prospect of losing you?"

"It's happened," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "It's happened now and we can't change it. I need to know that you'll be with me because I can't do this by myself."

He stood looking at her, shaking his head gently. "I don't know…I'm not sure how…" he broke off and sank down on the edge of the bed. "This is my fault."

Rebecca shook her head violently, "No."

"Yes it is," he insisted. "I told you that I would protect you, look after you and now…now you're pregnant with my child and it's all my fault." He put his head in his hands.

"Preston…" she crawled over the bed to him and wrapped her arms around him, "It's not your fault. It's my fault. I…" she buried her face in his neck, not sure what to say, not sure how to say it.

"If you were to die," he said, lifting his gaze to hers, "I would die too."

"I'm not going to die," she told him, more confidently than she felt. "Just because I have this…this condition doesn't mean that what happened to my mother will happen to me. I'm strong. You know that, you've said it yourself." She kissed his face gently. "Please…I promise it'll be all right."

He moved out of her grip. "I need some air." Opening the bedroom door he slipped out, quietly closing it behind him. Rebecca made to follow but then stopped, knowing that he needed some time to digest the news. She knew he would come around, but in the end, he didn't return to bed that night.

XXXX

Preston barely slept. Having gone downstairs and stood on the porch for a while breathing in the cold air, he had then made tea and sat by the dying fire thinking over everything Rebecca had said. He felt sick thinking about it. Thinking about what he had done. He had let himself get carried away, had too freely enjoyed her affections and lavished her with his own that he hadn't stopped to consider that there should be no mistakes. That it shouldn't have been done without them both being absolutely sure that every possible precaution had been taken.

He thought back to the night not long after they were married. When they had argued over business and he had brought her to see the house. He remembered their unquenchable passion in the bank and the look on Rebecca's face when she had told him she hadn't been protected. He had been so afraid that night and for many days after until she told him all was well. He had cursed himself for not taking more of an active interest in that side of things and had vowed it would be different. But as with all things, sense had occasionally been lost and now he was paying the price for it.

He left the house before Rebecca was awake, dressing quickly while she slept, and then making his way into town. It was early and the bank wasn't due to open for another two hours, but he felt as though he needed the peace and quiet to think. Staring at figures and accounts had always calmed him in the past and he hoped they would do the same now. But every time he tried to concentrate, he saw Rebecca's face swimming before him.

He left the bank briefly and was walking around to Grace's when he saw Michaela dismount and tie her horse up outside the clinic. Stepping forwards, he came up behind her. "May I speak with you?" he asked.

Michaela turned, "Of course." She opened the door and he followed her inside. "Is it about Rebecca?" she asked, closing it again behind him and hanging up her coat, knowing deep down that it would be about little else.

"She told me last night," he replied. "Though I gather you've known for some time."

"I'm a doctor, Preston. I diagnose symptoms, that's all."

"I'm…concerned…" he said slowly, "about how this pregnancy will affect her."

"That's understandable," Michaela said, "but, as I told Rebecca, I'll be monitoring her carefully for the next few months and as long as she doesn't over-exert herself, I don't see any problem come the birth."

Preston looked at the floor, "You still intend to go ahead with this caesarean section?"

"Yes. I wouldn't normally advocate it but, in the circumstances, I think it's the safest way for both Rebecca and the baby."

He turned and looked out of the window, finally giving voice to the thoughts that had plagued him. "I've heard…that there are ways…doctors….who are willing to perform…other operations."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

He turned back to her, "There is another option, isn't there? A way to put an end to all of this now?" Michaela frowned. "A way to…end the pregnancy?"

She took in what he said, "You're talking about an abortion."

He nodded, "Precisely."

"Preston, I'm a doctor. I'm trained to save lives not…"

"But it can be done?" he looked searchingly at her.

"Well, yes, it can be done," she said, "but it's illegal not to mention morally questionable."

He waved his hand dismissively, "I'm not interested in the religious or political debate. I only want to know how I can go about finding out…how to get it done."

"Have you spoken to Rebecca about this?" He looked away, not wanting to admit that it was a decision he had come to alone. "Well, don't you think you should? It's her body and her baby and attempting to perform this sort of procedure on a woman against her will is repugnant!"

"Spare me your speeches, Michaela," he snapped, irritated by her piety, "are you saying that you will not perform the operation?"

"Preston…" she stepped forward, "if you think that having this procedure will be safer for Rebecca than her carrying her baby to term and having a caesarean section, then you're mistaken. Hundreds of women die in this country every day because of it. Most doctors won't perform it which means that you would have to find someone of questionable practices to do it and…"

"So be it."

"And you would be risking Rebecca's life needlessly!"

"Needlessly?" he echoed. "Her life is already in danger because of this! She could die having this baby, Michaela."

"I'm aware it must have been a shock…"

"You can't for one minute think I'm happy about this news, can you?" he looked at her. "Don't you think that if I could take back every moment…that I would?" he swallowed hard, not wanting to show too much emotion.

Michaela looked at him sympathetically, "Preston…"

"I won't let my wife die when there is a way to prevent it." He opened the door. "If you won't help me then I'll take her to someone who will. Denver…or Boston if I have to."

"And just how do you intend to convince her? She's worried, yes, but a part of her is happy too, as it should be."

Preston turned back to face her, "She's trying to convince herself that everything will be all right. She's trying to convince me that everything will be all right…" he shook his head. "I'm not going to lose her, Michaela. Not for a child I don't even want. Have never wanted."

Michaela paused, "You don't want it at all?"

"No," he shook his head, "I don't. And you can make of that what you will but I did this to her and now I have to find a way to fix it." He touched his hat. "Good day Michaela."

XXXX

Rebecca tried to speak with Preston at various points throughout the day, but he proved either to be elusive or otherwise preoccupied. At lunch time, she couldn't seem to find him anywhere around town and every time she ventured into the bank he was either with a customer or had his head buried in accounts.

"Can't you even spare five minutes?" she had begged.

"I have to finish this," he had replied without lifting his head. "I'll talk to you at home."

"But…"

"I said I'll talk to you at home." He lifted angry eyes to meet hers and, feeling like a scolded child, she had left.

He had arrived home late, made no move to bestow his customary kiss on her, and they sat in strained silence over the meal until Preston deigned to speak to her. "I spoke with Michaela this afternoon," He said tightly.

"Really?" Rebecca looked at him, grateful that he was even addressing her. "What did she say?"

"Much as I expected," he replied, refusing to meet her gaze. "We spoke about all of the options."

"I think that she's right about a caesarean section being the most sensible option," Rebecca said, "that way we can control what…"

"I made clear precisely what I thought was the best option," he interrupted her.

"Which is what?" she asked.

"That we take you to a doctor who will…remove the problem." His words hung in the air. Rebecca knew what they meant but the full horror of it took a moment to sink into her subconscious. "Seeing as she seemed unwilling to do it herself I wired Doctor Cassidy and he has given me the name of a doctor in Denver who is willing to perform the operation at a reasonable price. The earlier the better." He stole a quick glance at her. "He's a well respected man in his field and I'm sure you'll agree it's the best thing all round."

Rebecca found she couldn't speak. Preston carried on eating as though he had merely been discussing the weather. When she found her voice, she discovered it would barely carry. "You're suggesting that I get rid of our child."

He winced slightly at the words, "I'm suggesting that there is a way to make all this go away."

"You don't want our child."

Preston put his fork down and met her gaze. How could he tell her that, despite what he had said to Michaela the thought of Rebecca round and full with his child was a welcome one? That although he had pushed it to the very back of his mind and told himself it could never be, he had always wondered what it would be like to have a son. But it was something that had been a secret fantasy only. It was something that could never be and that he would never allow. He had to take responsibility for what he had done. He had to be the voice of reason. "It's not even a child, Rebecca, it's…it's…" he broke off, not sure how to describe it. "It's not a question of wanting it. It's a question of doing the right thing."

"And the right thing as far as you're concerned is to have some doctor rip our child out of me?" She was trembling as she spoke.

"Rebecca, I gave up on the idea of having a family when I found out about your condition. I knelt at your bedside in Michaela's clinic and pleaded with you that children didn't matter to me because I wanted to marry you. You made it very clear then that the mere threat of a pregnancy could result in your death." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. "Darling…" he saw her face relax at the use of the term of affection. "I love you so much and I can't sit here and let you put yourself at risk like this! I've done this to you, so please let me put it right."

"You didn't do this to me," she said stubbornly, "and it's my choice."

"And I have no say?"

"Preston, I thought I could live without a child. I reminded myself every day what had happened to my mother and how I couldn't bare that to happen to me. I thought that if I worked in the store and the hotel and had you that it would be enough for me. But then I saw Myra with Samantha and Michaela with Katie and I felt as though something was missing in my life. I wanted to give you a child. I wanted…" she broke off at the look in his eyes. "I wanted to know what it felt like to carry a baby. To give birth to our child. To be a family."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, "I don't understand."

Rebecca looked down at the table. "There were times when…when I didn't use the sponge or when I didn't wash myself afterwards…or when I didn't remind you…" she let the words trail off.

"You mean…you mean that you…" Preston's words were shocked. "You did this on purpose?" Rebecca put her head in her hands and started to cry. "You did this on purpose?!" he said again, his voice rising an octave.

"Please don't shout at me," she sniffed.

Preston pushed his chair back violently from the table, causing it to fall over with a crash. "You deliberately allowed yourself to become pregnant?! How could you be so stupid?!" he raged.

"Please…"

"You stupid, stupid girl!"

"I'm not stupid!" She shouted back, tears pouring down her cheeks. "I wanted it! It wasn't fair and I wanted it! And I've got it and I'm keeping it!" He strode over to the door, grabbing his coat in the process, and wrenched it open. "Where are you going?" she got to her feet.

"Out!" he replied.

"Preston, please don't leave! Please!" The door banged shut behind him. "Preston!" She ran after him out onto the porch and watched as he climbed aboard Thunder. "Preston, please don't go!"

He looked down at her and, in the dim light, she could see the cold anger marring his face. "Why would you do this?!" He kicked Thunder hard and the horse leapt forward, cantering away from the house.

"Preston!" Rebecca screamed after him. "Please don't leave me!" She watched as Thunder disappeared into the darkness then sank down on the porch steps, ignoring the bitter wind that blew around her. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…" she sobbed to herself. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…"