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May 1872

"Everything sounds fine," Michaela said, lifting her stethoscope from Rebecca's expanding stomach. "I can hear a strong heartbeat."

"Oh that's good," Rebecca said, "I'm so glad. I can't help but worry about whether or not the baby's ok." She was now six months pregnant and her stomach seemed to be growing every day. The baby had started to move and it still gave her a thrill to feel it inside her and know that it was her child.

"I remember the feeling," Michaela smiled. "How are you feeling generally?"

"Fine," Rebecca replied.

"You're sure?" Michaela queried.

"Yes, of course."

Michaela glanced at Preston who was sitting in the corner and then back at her patient. "Have you been worrying about having more attacks?"

Rebecca shrugged, "I suppose…"

"Well you haven't had any more since that last one on Valentine's Day have you?" Rebecca didn't reply.

Preston stood up and stepped forward, "Rebecca?"

She let out a sigh. "I had one a few nights ago."

Preston stared at her, "Well why in God's name didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was only a small one," she replied. "I didn't lose consciousness and after a few drops of digitalis I felt fine." She looked at him. "There seemed little point in worrying you."

"Rebecca," Preston said, his tone one of clear irritation, "how am I supposed to look after you if you don't tell me when you're unwell?!"

"Is that the only other attack you've had since becoming pregnant?" Michaela asked keen to avoid marital warfare in the clinic.

"Yes," Rebecca replied.

"Then I'm sure that it's nothing to worry about. If you were having them frequently then I think there would be cause for alarm. But as it stands…"

"I should have realised," Preston said. "You've been very tired of late."

"But that's surely normal," Rebecca looked at Michaela, "All expectant mothers get tired, don't they?"

"Of course they do," she reassured her, "but you must be honest if you feel any of the symptoms of your condition and tell me if you have any more attacks."

Rebecca nodded, "I know and I will." She stood up and turned to her husband. "If we want to have lunch before your meeting this afternoon, darling, I suggest we go now." She didn't want to talk any more about her condition and the effect that the pregnancy was having on her.

"Of course," he replied. "Thank you Michaela."

"Yes, thank you," Rebecca echoed.

"You're welcome," Michaela replied, walking them to the door. "Rebecca?"

"Yes?" she turned back.

"Before you go…I was wondering…I was wondering if you had spoken to Matthew recently?"

Rebecca paused and glanced at Preston before meeting her friend's gaze, "Well I…no, not recently. Is there a problem?" She wasn't sure how much, if anything, Michaela knew about Matthew's feelings for her or what had happened between them.

"No, I'm sure it's nothing," Michaela said quickly, "but he's seemed so irrational of late that I thought…well I thought he might have confided in you. Though I noticed that the two of you don't seem to talk as much lately."

"Rebecca has much more concerning things to occupy her time with than the day-to-day life of a boy," Preston said contemptuously.

"I'm sure Matthew's duties are just keeping him busy," Rebecca said reassuringly.

"Yes I suppose you're right," Michaela said. "Have a nice lunch."

"Thank you," Rebecca replied. "That was a little rude," she commented as she and Preston left the clinic and made their way to the café.

"Yes, well."

"Preston…"

"I don't want to discuss him, Rebecca," he interrupted her. "I want to have a pleasant lunch with my wife."

Afternoon folks!" Grace greeted them, putting an end to the discussion. "My Rebecca…you get bigger every time I see you!"

"Thanks Grace," she laughed, pleased for the distraction, "I feel bigger every time I see you!" She allowed her hand to rest protectively on her stomach.

The other woman laughed too. "Go and have a seat and I'll bring you over some meatloaf. I got apple pie for dessert too."

"You read my mind," Rebecca said as she and Preston sat down at a vacant table. "You didn't look too enthusiastic at the clinic," she challenged him, eager to divert the conversation.

"I don't understand what you mean," he replied.

"Well you sat there hardly saying a word while I was being examined."

"Well it's more of a consultation between you and Michaela. Quite frankly, I'm not sure I require to be there at all. How do you expect me to behave?" he asked.

"Happy, as opposed to appearing inconvenienced?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I have a terrible headache today and…you're right, I should have been more enthusiastic." He reached out and took her hand, "Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, but why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" She reached out and touched his face lightly, "You're rather warm. How long have you been feeling this way?"

"I didn't want to trouble you," he replied, batting her away.

"So you scold me for not telling you about my attack and then you keep this to yourself?"

"That's completely different!" he exclaimed, "Rebecca you must tell me the moment you feel remotely unwell in any sense!"

"I know and I will. But that sort of concern has to run both ways." She paused. "How did the meeting with Walter Mason go?"

"Very well," Preston replied. "He said he's looking forward to bringing his family out here this summer."

"So," Grace said, bringing over their plates and ending their discussion, "have you thought about names yet?"

"We've discussed it," Rebecca replied, "but we can't seem to agree at the moment."

"Oh?"

"I think you dismissed my suggestion rather out of hand," Preston said.

"What was that?" Grace asked.

"Preston A. Lodge IV," Rebecca replied, in a tone that indicated she had no intention of reconsidering it.

"I see," Grace shared her look.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Preston said. "It's a good name."

"I'm not saying it's not a good name," Rebecca replied, "but it might get confusing having two Preston's."

"It worked perfectly well for my father and I and his father before him."

"Your father might think we were naming the baby after him."

"So?"

"Preston, we are not giving the baby that name. Besides, what if it's a girl?"

"I have no objection to you naming it after your mother," he replied magnanimously.

"My mother's name was Caroline," Rebecca said for Grace's benefit.

"Oh that's pretty," Grace said.

"But if it's a boy…" Preston interjected.

"No!"

"Well then, what else would you suggest?" he asked, "We're not calling it after your father."

Rebecca shook her head, "I agree. Angus is too old fashioned."

"You got Scotch blood, Rebecca," Grace said, "ain't there some other nice Scotch names you could use?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," she replied honestly. "No doubt when the baby arrives its name will become obvious."

Preston made a face into his cup, "No doubt."

XXXX

Three nights later, Rebecca was washing up the supper dishes when Preston came into the kitchen looking nothing short of ghastly. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned. "You look terrible."

"I'm going to…turn in early, if you don't mind," he replied, coughing violently as he spoke.

"Of course I don't mind." She stepped towards him and placed her hand on his cheek. "You're still very warm. That's been three days now, Preston, and that cough has only gotten worse. Perhaps you should have Michaela examine you tomorrow."

"I don't need to be seen by Michaela or any other doctor for that matter," he replied stubbornly.

"Oh, so it's all right for me to be prodded and poked but not you?"

"You're pregnant," he reminded her, "I merely have a headache and a temperature. Walter Mason had a terrible cold when I met with him the other day, coughing and spluttering everywhere, and no doubt he has passed it to me. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning." He brushed her forehead with his lips and then proceeded to make his way upstairs to the bedroom.

Rebecca finished tidying up, doused the fire, laid out the dishes for the following day's breakfast and then climbed the stairs herself. The lamp was burning in the bedroom and Preston was lying on his side of the bed, curled into a ball under the covers. She slipped off her dress and laid it on the chair, washed quickly and pulled on her nightshirt. Pulling back the covers, she slid into bed beside him and, within minutes was fast asleep.

Some hours later, she awoke suddenly. She wasn't sure what it was that had startled her, and she put her hand instinctively on her stomach to feel if it was the baby. It was then that she heard laboured breathing coming from Preston's side of the bed.

"Preston?" she said quietly, "Preston, are you awake?" There was no response and she leaned over him. "Preston, can you hear me?" He groaned slightly and she reached out to put her hand on his forehead and was shocked by the heat and sweat that she felt there. "Preston!" Her tone was more frantic now and she quickly lit the lamp at the side of the bed before rolling him over onto his back. "Oh my God…" she could see instantly that he was burning up, his face red and caked in sweat and he was shivering. Far from being a simple cold, this was something far more serious.

Getting out of bed as quickly as she could, Rebecca hurried to the wash basin, submerged the flannel lying beside it and hurriedly brought it over to the bed. She knelt at his side, placed it on his forehead and then wiped his face in a desperate attempt to cool him. She unbuttoned his nightshirt and passed the flannel over the top of his chest. His eyes remained closed. "Preston, please talk to me," she begged. He groaned again. "Preston…darling…you need help. You need help…" she cast around frantically, wondering what on earth she should do. She didn't want to leave him by himself, but she knew that he needed a doctor. "I have to go and get Michaela," she told him, but he gave no sign to having understood her. Quickly, she redressed and then pulled the covers up around him, keeping him warm, and made her way downstairs.

There wasn't enough time for her to hitch up the surrey, so she knew she would simply have to ride. Grabbing the tack from the porch, she hurried as fast as she could towards the stable. She unlocked Thunder's stall door and proceeded to tack him up as best she could. The saddle proved the most difficult to lift in her condition and she prayed for the strength to do it without hurting the baby. Once it was done, she led him out into the yard and tried to mount. The customary way was out of the question so she led him to the low wall running alongside the house, climbed up on it and then pulled herself as best she could onto his back. Glancing up at the light coming from the bedroom, she urged him forwards into a trot. The motion was uncomfortable and she prayed fervently that what she was doing wasn't going to harm the baby, but she was spurred on by the idea that Preston was in trouble. Pushing Thunder into a canter, she rode as quickly as she could along the trail until Michaela's homestead came into sight.

"Michaela!" she shouted up as she reached the front of it. "Michaela!"

One of the upstairs windows opened and Michaela's head appeared. "Rebecca?!"

"Please…"she gasped, "it's Preston. He's really sick and…and I don't know what to do…"

"Stay there!" Michaela disappeared and moments later, she and Sully appeared at the door. "You shouldn't have ridden all this way!" she exclaimed, hurrying down and grabbing Thunder's bridle.

"I'm fine," Rebecca said, "but it's Preston…" she suddenly felt light-headed and swayed in the saddle.

"Sully!" Michaela exclaimed.

He hurried forward and put his hands on her waist, lifting her easily off. "I got you," he said, hitching her up in his arms and carrying her inside. Michaela followed behind and he placed her gently down in the chair.

"Please," Rebecca said faintly, "I left Preston alone. I'm fine but you have to go and make sure he's all right."

"I'll come with you," Sully said to Michaela, "Rebecca can stay here with the children."

"No," she tried to get up, "No, I have to come with you…"

"You need to rest," Michaela urged. "I'll go and see to Preston, but you must stay here." At that moment, Colleen appeared. "Colleen, brew Rebecca some tea and look in my bag. I should have some digitalis in there in case she needs it. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Ok Ma," Colleen replied.

"Rebecca," Michaela turned back to her friend. "What are Preston's symptoms?"

"He has a high fever," she replied, "sweating, having trouble breathing…" she grabbed Michaela's arm. "Do you think he'll be all right?"

"I won't know until I've examined him," Michaela replied, grabbing her overcoat from behind the door and pulling it on over her nightclothes. Then she grabbed her bag and she and Sully quickly left the house. They rode hurriedly to the other house and Michaela hurried inside and upstairs to the bedroom where Preston was still lying, half conscious, in the bed. She pulled up his eyelids to look and then brought out her stethoscope to listen to his chest.

Sully appeared at the door moments later. "Is he all right?"

"He has a high fever," Michaela replied, "and his pulse is weak." She moved her stethoscope over his chest area and then paused before looking up at him. "I think he has influenza."

XXXX

"Influenza?!" Rebecca exclaimed when Sully returned to give her the news. "But…but I don't understand. How could he get influenza?"

"Michaela ain't sure," he replied.

"The man he met with a few days ago at the hotel, Walter Mason. Preston said that he had a terrible cold and that he was coughing and spluttering everywhere…" her eyes filled with tears. "Is he going to be all right?" Sully didn't reply. "Oh God no!" Rebecca got to her feet and hurried towards the door.

Sully chased her, catching her lightly around the waist before she could open it. "You can't go to him," he told her. "Michaela wants me to take you and Colleen to the clinic where you'll be safe."

"But…"

"She says that you and the baby have both been exposed."

"I feel fine!" Rebecca protested. "Sully, I have to be with him. Please, please let me go to him!"

"Michaela's looking after him," he tried to reassure her. "You gotta trust that she knows what she's doing and that she'll make sure that he's all right."

Rebecca finally acquiesced but cried for the entire journey to the clinic in the wagon with Sully and Colleen. All she could think about was Preston and if he was all right. She knew she had done the right thing in getting help, but part of her wished she had never left his side. When they reached town, Sully dropped them at the clinic and helped Rebecca out of the wagon.

"I'm going to tell Matthew that the two of you are here," he said, "then he can keep an eye on you til morning."

Rebecca didn't say anything as she followed Colleen into the clinic and upstairs to one of the rooms. The younger woman turned down the bed for her and helped her in, gently telling her that she would just be next door. Rebecca longed for sleep, but it was all she could do to stare at the ceiling, tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt her baby move inside her and prayed for its father.

She must have finally succumbed, however, because she suddenly woke to daylight streaming in the window and the sound of voices outside the bedroom door. Getting out of bed, she padded to the door and opened it to find Michaela and Colleen talking on the other side, the former looking completely exhausted.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Preston, is Preston all right? Sully said something about influenza."

"He does have influenza, Rebecca," Michaela said. "He's displaying all the classic symptoms."

"Well…what can you do? You must be able to do something to help him."

"I've been bathing him in cold water and administering willowbark tea," she replied, "but I'm concerned that the infection might spread to his lungs."

"What does that mean?" Rebecca asked fearfully.

Michaela paused, "Pneumonia."

Rebecca felt as though her throat was closing up and she could barely breathe. "I…I want to see him."

Michaela shook her head, "It's too dangerous for you and the baby."

"I want to see him!"

"I can't advise it, Rebecca. You've already been exposed by being around Preston. This disease can simply pass from person to person and there is every chance that you could develop it. That could have serious consequences for you and the baby and I don't believe that Preston would want you to take that risk."

"But he's my husband," she persisted. "If it was Sully, wouldn't you want to be with him?"

"Of course, but…"

"Michaela, please…" Rebecca begged, tears starting to spill down her cheeks. "Please, I have to see him!"

"I'm sorry," Michaela said, "I really have to advise against it."

Rebecca turned back into the room and sank down onto the bed. "I don't understand why this is happening…" she sobbed. "He was fine a few days ago…"

"I know this is hard," Michaela said, coming to sit beside her, "but Preston's a strong man, Rebecca. You have to believe that he can beat this disease."

Rebecca looked up at her, "Do you think he can?"

Michaela paused. "Influenza is a dangerous illness but...with what I've seen in the past...I think he has every chance."

Rebecca nodded. "It's funny…all this time, we've been so worried about something happening to me that…we never thought about something happening to him…" she dissolved into sobs again and Michaela held her tightly to her, although she longed for someone else's arms.