I'm so sorry that I haven't updated for a while. Life has just been so manic!! Thanks for sticking with me though and here is the next chapter. Please read and review!!

Three days later

The sun was slowly setting over Colorado Springs, casting a warm, rosy glow over the horizon. Michaela sat in Preston and Rebecca's bedroom, reading a book in the amber light, and wishing she could have been anywhere but here. It had been three days and there had been no sign of Preston's condition improving. If anything, it had deteriorated.

Rebecca had begged and begged to be allowed to see him, but Michaela had remained firm. Although she understood her friend's distress, she knew that Rebecca would only be putting herself and the baby at risk, so she insisted that she remain at the clinic until things had changed. She hadn't seen the children for days, determined not to expose them to Preston's condition, though Sully had come to the house on a few occasions but had remained outside, shouting to her through the window.

"Rebecca? Rebecca…"

Michaela looked up over to the bed, where Preston lay, still burning with fever. "Rebecca…"

She stood up and moved over beside him, dismayed to see the sweat beaded on his forehead and chest, causing his nightshirt to stick to his body. Reaching into the basin by the bed, she rinsed out the cloth and placed it on his forehead. "Sssh," she soothed him, "it's all right." She ran the flannel gently over him.

Preston reached out and took her hand in his, causing her to start slightly. "My darling…" he breathed, his eyes still closed. "I love you…"

"Preston, I'm…" she broke off, about to confess that she wasn't who he thought she was, but then she realised that he really wasn't aware of who was in the room and that it might give him some comfort to believe Rebecca was there.

"I love you and the baby," he continued, his breathing laboured. "You'll be all right. You'll both…be all right…" He coughed violently. "You'll be well provided for…I've…I've made sure…"

"Don't talk," Michaela said uncomfortably. "Save your strength."

"The bank…" he coughed again, "and the hotel….they're both yours…"

"Preston…"

"You've made me so happy…so happy…" he lapsed into unconsciousness again, his grip on her hand lessening.

Michaela lifted her stethoscope and pressed it to his chest, her heart sinking as she listened to the wet crackling of his lungs. It was what she had feared the most.

****

"Rebecca, you've got to eat something," Colleen said as she and Rebecca sat at Grace's café the following morning. Rebecca was staring down at her plate, moving the food around with her fork but making no attempt to actually eat. "You need to keep your strength up."

"I can't," she replied, putting her fork down. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to," Colleen insisted. "You need to keep your strength up for the baby."

"Who cares!" she snapped. "Who cares about the baby?!" Then, realising what she had said, she put her hands over her stomach and started to cry. "I didn't mean that…"

"Of course you didn't," Colleen said, putting her hand on her friend's arm. "You're exhausted."

Rebecca nodded. She had barely slept in the last three days, so consumed with worry about Preston. Though a part of her knew her friend was right in keeping her away, Rebecca could hardly bear the separation. She needed to be there with him, needed to see him, to let him know that she cared, to tell him how much that she loved him. Faced with the prospect that he might die, she found herself regretting all the times she hadn't told him, all the petty arguments they had had. If only he would live…she would let him name their child after his father…anything…just as long as he lived…

"Matthew."

Rebecca looked up at the sound of Colleen greeting her brother and met Matthew's gaze from where he was standing a few feet away.

"You all right?" he asked her. She nodded wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak. He sat down beside her. "You look tired."

"She's not sleeping," Colleen explained, "No wonder."

"You need to take care of yourself Becca," Matthew said softly. "Preston wouldn't want…" he trailed off.

"You think he's going to die?" she looked up at him.

"I don't know. Doctor Mike's doing all she can for him, I know that. If anyone can get Preston through this it's her."

"Think of all the times she's done this before," Colleen added. "Besides, Preston's got a lot to fight for now that he's going to be a father."

Rebecca's head suddenly snapped up. "His parents…I should wire his parents." The thought hadn't so much as crossed her mind before now. Her only thoughts had been for herself and she had neglected to think about Preston's own family and the fact that they would want to know what had happened. She pushed her chair back quickly and stood up, instantly feeling faint and swaying dangerously.

"Hey, slow down," Matthew said, jumping up beside her and wrapping his arm around her waist. "Take it easy."

"I'm fine," she replied, wriggling out of his grip. "I have to get to the telegraph office." She hurried away from the table, Colleen's voice shouting after her that she hadn't eaten anything. Purposefully, she made her way to the station where there was a line at Horace's booth. Impatiently she waited, shifting from foot to foot wishing, uncharitably, that old Widow Peterson in front would hurry up. Finally, she was at the head of the line.

"Morning Rebecca," Horace greeted her, "How's Preston?"

"Not so good," she replied in as steady a voice as possible. "I…I need to send a wire to his parents in Boston."

"Of course," Horace replied, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil.

"It's to Mr and Mrs Preston A. Lodge II, Beacon Hill, Boston," she said. "Dear Mr and Mrs Lodge. Preston extremely ill with influenza. Condition grave. You may wish to come." She paused. "Rebecca." She handed over the money.

"I'll send it right away," Horace reassured her.

"Thank you," she replied, stepping back from the booth. Turning, she watched as the residents of the town hurried past, wrapped up in their own thoughts, oblivious to her pain and wished it could all be different.

****

"Preston, I indulged your wish to open a branch of my bank in that town on the understanding that you would be level-headed about the situation……. I assumed that once opened you would leave it in someone else's capable hands and come back to Boston to honour your commitment to Miss Draper…."

Preston screwed his eyes tightly shut to block out his father's words.

"Clearly, however, your head has been turned by some local beauty with neither the wealth nor the connections to be considered a good match…. I will not have my son garner the reputation as a man who makes promises lightly. You will close the bank and return home immediately…."

"No Father," he groaned, "No…"

"You think that I wasn't serious before….I will close that bank, Preston, I mean it!"

"No…"

"I'm your mother, Preston. I can read your feelings. And I am also quite aware of how much mail leaves this house and hoe much comes in and I know that you are writing to Colorado Springs more than she is writing here….could it not be that Miss McKendrick's affection has waned now that you have left town…"

"Mother…"

"Well…you will be the best judge. I just don't want to see you have your heart broken, Preston…..you are too important to me for that…"

"Rebecca…" he breathed, pushing his face into the coolness of the pillow, "Rebecca loves me…"

"I was afraid that you would decide you wanted to stay there and marry Helen. Or worse, that you might bring her back here as your wife… I knew that I wouldn't be able to stand that when I felt…when I knew that I…I loved you…."

"My darling…" he groaned.

"A little thing like that? Preston, think of what you've just said. Thoughts of me…with you in your bed…don't you see that it's those feelings that could lead to a potentially unhappy ending for both of us….I could never fully give myself to you knowing that I could conceive and…and what marriage is complete without that…"

"I love you so much…sweet Rebecca…"

"I'm sure that…with Michaela's help…everything will be fine. I want this baby so much, Preston. I know I'll be a good mother and you'll be a wonderful father..."

All of the images were flashing before him at a relentless pace. It was bright, too bright and too fast. His mother, father, Rebecca, James, Michaela…everyone was going too fast…he tried to reach out for Rebecca, tried to grab onto her, but she kept slipping out of his grasp. He needed her, needed her so badly…

"Rebecca…" he whimpered, "Rebecca…"

He was dying and he needed her.

****

Rebecca had wandered aimlessly after instructing the telegram, not sure where to go or what to do. She had avoided going back to Grace's in case Colleen and Matthew tried to get her to eat. Every time she thought of food, her throat closed up and she felt as though she might be sick. She had walked slowly down the road towards the church, wondering if there was a God and, if there was, if he was hearing her desperate prayers to save her husband. She remembered Preston telling her how he had refused to give the Reverend a loan for repairs, and she only hoped that God wouldn't hold that against him in his fight for survival.

"Rebecca!" She turned suddenly at the sound of her name and saw Sully riding quickly towards her.

"What is it?" she demanded anxiously, "Preston…"

"Michaela wants you to go to the house right away," he said, "she sent me to fetch you."

She felt her blood run cold, "Is he…?"

"I don't know. She just told me to get you." Rebecca stepped forward to his horse and made to pull herself up behind him. "No," Sully said quickly, "we'll go back to town and get a wagon."

"I don't need a wagon," she replied, "I rode all the way to get Michaela and I was fine. Just help me up."

Reluctantly, Sully slid down and helped her up onto the horse before climbing up behind her and taking the reins. Urging him on, they made their way out of town and towards the house, arriving within moments. Sully pulled the house to a stop, jumped down and then helped Rebecca down just as Michaela appeared at the door.

"I'm glad you're here," she said.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked, climbing the steps." Is he all right? What…?"

Michaela guided her inside and sat her down in the living room before perching on the chair beside her. "The infection has spread to his lungs," she explained. "He's developed pneumonia."

"No…" Rebecca whispered shakily.

"I've been trying to clear his lungs but…" she sighed, "so far, it's not been having much effect." Tears filled Rebecca's eyes and slipped down her cheeks. "I thought you should be here."

"Is he going to die?" she asked.

Michaela paused, "Perhaps."

Rebecca let out a strangled cry and put her head in her heads, her body shaking with sobs. Not Preston, please God don't take him…She felt Michaela's hand on her back, but all she wanted was to be with her husband. Getting to her feet, she hurried towards the stairs and climbed as quickly as she could. Rushing along the corridor, she pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside. The room was warm, with the shades drawn and only a lamp burning in the corner. Preston lay motionless on the bed, the only noise being the terrible sound of his breathing.

"Preston?" she stepped forward, wishing that he would open his eyes and sit up, but he didn't. Rebecca moved over to the bed and looked down at him. He looked so frail and helpless, not like the man she knew. Gingerly, she sat down in the seat next to the bed and reached out to take his hand in hers. She was surprised by the heat emanating from his body and it only made her heart sink further. "Preston…?" He twitched suddenly, causing her to start. "Preston, can you hear me?" With seemingly great effort, he opened his eyes a few centimetres and met her gaze. "I'm here," she said, bending closer to him, "My darling, I'm here." She placed her hand on the side of his face and stroked his cheek gently, fighting back her tears.

Preston murmured something that she couldn't understand, but he turned his face slightly into her hand, the only real sign she had that he perhaps knew that she was there.

"I love you," she said, the tears now pouring down her cheeks. "I love you so much. Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me, Preston, not now…I couldn't bear it…" Before she had time to think, she pulled herself onto the bed beside him and wrapped herself around him. It was uncomfortably hot and sweaty, but she needed to be close to him now. Not just her, but their baby too. Somehow, she knew that if he was going to die, she wanted them all to die.

Boston

"Father, I really wish you would let me come with you," James said in exasperation as his parents busied themselves to depart from Boston.

"No, no," his father said, "You must stay here and make sure everything is all right at the bank." He nodded decisively, "Your mother and I will be fine."

"Have you had any more word from Rebecca?"

"Another telegram came last night to say that his condition remains the same," Preston Senior paused and looked out of the study window. "Grave."

There was a sombre silence before James spoke again. "Father, if Preston is going to die…" he trailed off as his father looked at him sharply. "Then I would like to see him."

"I know," his father nodded, "but I don't think it's wise that the entire family descends on Colorado Springs, particularly with Rebecca in her condition."

"Of course," James replied. "But if things do seem to be worsening…"

"We will send for you," Preston Senior reassured him. At that moment, the study door opened and Alice appeared. "Are we ready to leave?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes red from crying. "I want to leave now, Preston, the sooner the better."

"Of course," he came out from behind his desk. "Have Collins bring the carriage around to the door." Alice nodded and quickly left. "Now, you will be able to handle the meeting tomorrow, won't you?"

"Of course I will," James replied.

"If there are any problems…"

"Father, I can handle it. Please just go."

Preston Senior nodded and then held out his hand, "Goodbye son."

"Goodbye Father," James echoed. "God speed."

Preston Senior hurried through the house and out the front door to where Alice was already settled in the carriage. As he prepared to climb in beside her he paused, hearing someone call his name from behind. Turning, he saw Helen O'Connell hurrying towards him, pushing a pram. "Mr Lodge!" she exclaimed, stopping beside him to catch her breath. "I heard the news about Preston. How is he?"

"We're on our way to Colorado Springs to see him," he replied. "I understand from Rebecca that his condition is not good."

"I'm so sorry," she said, "I know how he's Mrs Lodge's favourite." She glanced into the carriage. "Please give him my best."

"I will."

"Perhaps now he will see how foolish moving to that town and marrying that woman was," she added bitterly.

Preston Senior looked at her, "Yes," he replied, "perhaps he will." With that, he climbed into the carriage beside his wife and they began to head for the station.

Colorado Springs

Rebecca wasn't sure what time it was when she woke, but the room was in darkness and there was a chill which made her believe it was during the night. She glanced at the fire in the corner of the room and saw that it was burning down to its last few embers. Then she looked back at Preston and saw that he was unconscious, his breathing still ragged, his body still ravaged with fever.

Feeling nothing short of despair, Rebecca levered herself off of the bed and moved over to the basin beside the window. She poured some water in and carried it back to the bed to begin sponging Preston down again.

Just as she was about to reach it however, she dropped the basin suddenly, causing it to smash on the floor beneath her feet, as pain shot through her abdomen.