Hi everyone...once again I find myself apologising for the delay in updating. Life has been a bit of a bitch over the last few months and I've no inclination to update. But here we are and I'm going to try and keep it regular again. I hope you'll keep reading and reviewing because Rebecca and Preston's saga is far from over.....

"Where is she?" Preston demanded, his eyes searching the room before rounding on Michaela. "Where is she?"

"I…I don't know," Michaela replied. "I left her here sleeping…Preston…" he pushed past her out of the room and made his way to the top of the stairs. "Be careful," she warned as he slowly and awkwardly began descending them, holding onto the banister with both hands.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he hurried into the main living quarters, finding them dark save for the light from the fire. "Rebecca!" he called out, his voice echoing. There was no reply and he moved into the kitchen, also finding it to be empty.

"Perhaps she's outside," Michaela suggested, moving quickly to the front door.

"But surely she's not well enough to…" Preston's voice trailed off as he turned back towards the fire and saw the Moses basket Rebecca had ordered from Boston sat next to it. Overcome with a feeling of dread, he staggered towards it, almost too afraid to look inside and see his dead child.

"I can't see her," Michaela replied, stepping back inside. "I don't know…" she paused as she saw Preston move towards the basket. Silently she waited, wishing she didn't have to be privy to this moment.

Preston paused for a long moment, "What was it?"

"A girl," Michaela replied.

He turned to look at her, his eyes wide, "She's gone."

Michaela hurried forward and looked into the basket which, to her shock, was empty. "Rebecca must have taken her."

"Where?" he demanded, "where in God's name…" he broke off and staggered slightly. Michaela rushed to assist him and helped lower him down into the chair. "I'm fine," he said.

"You're not," Michaela said, "you're recovering from a serious bout of influenza and you should be in bed!"

"I have to look for her," Preston tried to push himself out of the chair but Michaela firmly stopped him.

"No, you have to stay here."

"But it's the middle of the night!" he protested. "She's out there somewhere with the baby and…"

"We'll find her," Michaela reassured him. "I'm going to ride for Sully and Matthew and we're going to look for her but you have to promise me that you'll stay here."

"No!"

"And what if she comes back and finds you gone?" she asked him. "Don't you want to be here in case she returns?"

Preston paused. "I suppose…"

"All right then," Michaela pulled the shawl closer around him and re-stoked the fire. "I'll be as quick as I can," she said, hurrying over and lifting her coat from where it hung behind the door.

"Michaela?" She turned back to where Preston sat helpless. "Promise me that you'll find her."

Michaela nodded. "I promise."

With that, she was gone and Preston found himself alone in his own house, the silence feeling almost deafening. He sat staring into the fire, not sure what to do or what to think. It was almost too much to comprehend in the moments since he had woken. Rebecca had given birth, the child had died, and his wife was missing. After ten minutes or so, he rose from the chair and made his way into the kitchen to make some tea. As he was coming back to the living room, he heard a noise from outside. Pausing, he listened until he heard it again. It sounded like the sound of metal hitting the earth.

He moved to the front door and opened it, pulling the shawl Michaela had given him around himself as the cold night air hit him. Moving down the steps he waited, listening as the sound repeated itself over and over. At first, he couldn't place where it was coming from, then he realised that it was emanating from behind the house. He hurried back inside the house, closing the door behind him, and let himself out the back door into the large garden expanse behind the house. At first, he could see nothing except darkness but then he heard the sound again and slowly began moving forwards in its direction.

"Hello?" he called out. "Who's there?" As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he suddenly caught sight of a figure a few feet away from him, relentlessly striking the ground with a shovel. He moved towards it and was suddenly shocked to recognise his wife. "Rebecca!"

She stopped and looked up at him, but showed no sign of relief at the fact that he was alive. "I have to bury her," she said, before continuing on with her work.

Preston glanced down and saw a small bundle at Rebecca's feet. As he edged closer, he saw a small, thin arm, protruding from the thick, white swaddling. Swallowing hard, he crouched down and pulled it back to reveal the face of his child. Pain suddenly coursed through him and, for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

"Stop," he said quietly, gathering the bundle to him and standing up again, his head spinning with the effort.

"I need to bury her," Rebecca said again, continuing to plunge the shovel into the ground, causing more damage than making progress. "Be careful with her," she said, turning suddenly to face him.

"My God…you're bleeding," Preston breathed, suddenly noticing the bloodstain on the front of her slip. "And you must be freezing. Please come inside." He shrugged the shawl from his own shoulders and stepped towards her.

"I'm fine," she replied. "You should be helping me."

Cradling his daughter in the crook of one arm, Preston held out the shawl to her. "We can bury her properly in the cemetery," he said.

"I think she should be buried here," Rebecca said, breathlessly pausing and wiping her brow. "Here with us. I just don't…I don't seem to have the energy to do this properly."

"Then come inside just now," he pressed, "we can do it later."

Rebecca met his gaze, "Do you promise you'll help me later?"

He nodded, "I promise."

Somewhat reluctantly, she took the shawl from him and put it around her shoulders. Then she stepped forward and reached for their daughter, gently taking her from him and holding her close to her. She followed him back inside the house and immediately headed for the seat by the fire, where she sat cradling the baby, her eyes never lifting from her face.

Preston sat opposite her, unsure what to do, fighting the nausea that he felt. It wasn't normal, surely, to be acting this way after the loss of a child. Eventually, she raised her eyes and met his gaze again.

"I'm glad you're all right," she said softly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he replied.

"There wouldn't have been anything you could have done," she replied, looking back down at her daughter's peaceful face. "Is it still all right to name her Caroline?"

Preston fought back his tears as best he could, "Of course."

And they sat by the fire together, until Michaela returned several minutes later looking, for all the world, like a normal family.

XXXX

Preston's parents arrived on the train the following morning. Sully met them at the station and told them the news before bringing them out to the house. Preston was there to greet them, feeling marginally better than he had the previous day.

"Preston my darling," Alice said, pulling him into a strong embrace. "I'm so glad that you're all right!" She pulled back and looked at him lovingly. "But I am so very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he replied quietly. Shaking his father's hand, he managed a small smile, "It's good to see you again, Father."

"Likewise," Preston Senior replied, "I'm sorry it's under such tragic circumstances."

"How is Rebecca?" Alice asked as he led them into the house.

"She's still sleeping," Preston replied. He quickly relayed the events of the previous evening. "I think the shock is beginning to wear off now. I couldn't get her to stop crying." He looked at the floor as he remembered how Rebecca's fragile sanity had cracked where all he had been able to do was hold her as she sobbed. Her grief had finally, after several hours, given way to exhaustion and she had fallen into a troubled sleep.

"What did you name her?" Alice asked softly.

"Caroline," he replied, "after Rebecca's mother. She…uh…she's at the church," he explained. "We're hoping the service can take place tomorrow when Rebecca's feeling better."

"Let me go and see her," Alice said.

"I'm not sure if…"

"Please," she insisted, "I might be able to help."

Preston nodded his thanks and, when his mother had gone upstairs, he led his father into the living room and gestured for him to sit down. "Can I get you anything, Father?"

"No, nothing," Preston Senior replied. "You should sit down, son, you still don't look well."

"I'll be all right," Preston replied, though he did as his father suggested. "I'm better than I was at any rate." They sat in silence for a long moment. "I'm not sure what to do for the best," he said finally.

"There isn't much you can do," Preston Senior replied.

"I feel guilty that I wasn't there when she needed me."

"You were sick! Besides, you know as well as I do that even if you had been well, you would have been kept away."

"I realise that," Preston said, looking at the floor. "But it doesn't make me feel any better." A few moments later, Alice came back downstairs and made her way into the kitchen. Preston followed her. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," she replied, "but she could do with some breakfast." She moved around the kitchen, making tea and preparing food.

Preston watched mutely for a moment before stepping in, "Allow me, Mother."

"Nonsense," Alice waved him away, "I'm perfectly capable of doing this. I do remember how to cook you know."

"I wasn't suggesting…" he broke off, "You're a guest here and you shouldn't have to…"

"Go up and see her," Alice prompted him. "I'll fix breakfast for her. Go on," she pressed. "She's awake and she wants to see you."

Given this seal of approval, Preston turned and made his way upstairs and into their bedroom. Rebecca was sitting up in bed looking pale and tired with dark circles under her eyes. "Good morning," he greeted her cautiously. She smiled wanly in return and held out her hand. Taking it in his, he moved over to the bed and sat on the edge. "How do you feel?"

"All right," she replied softly. "How are you? You're still very pale."

"I'm fine," he replied as brightly as he could.

"Will you speak to the Reverend today?" she asked.

"Of course."

"I want her to have a nice service," Rebecca continued. "A proper burial, not some…ridiculous attempt by me to dig a hole in our back garden…" She closed her eyes and shook her head in anger. "What was I thinking?"

"Don't worry about that now," he reassured her. "You were upset."

"I'm sorry," she said, tears springing into her eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I was so concerned about my own health that I didn't stop to think that this might happen…"

"Please," he interrupted her, "don't do this to yourself again. Just rest a while. My mother is making you breakfast."

"She shouldn't have to do that," Rebecca protested.

"She seems to want to," he replied, "but I warn you that I don't think she's cooked anything in at least twenty years so I can't vouch for its edibility." His attempt at humour made Rebecca smile slightly. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, stood up and moved back towards the door.

"Preston?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," Rebecca said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

He coughed to cover his own emotion, "I love you too," he replied before hurrying out of the room.

XXXX

The sun was splitting the trees the following day as Caroline Mary Lodge was laid to rest. The townsfolk had all come out to pay their respects and Rebecca felt somewhat confused that they should do so for a child none of them had ever met. But then she reasoned that she herself had been a mourner at so many funerals of people that she had barely known. It was obviously just the done thing.

The Reverend was saying nice things, or rather, she assumed he was, for she had barely heard a word. All she could think about was Caroline lying there in the little coffin that Jake had made, a life that had never actually begun.

She started suddenly as she felt Preston squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly so only she could hear.

"Fine," she lied, thinking what a stupid question it was to ask her. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of Alice whose face was streaming with tears and Preston Senior, his lips pressed tightly together, no emotion on his face. Turning to her other side, she saw Michaela and Sully and, in the background, Matthew, who never once met her gaze.

Before she realised what had happened, the ceremony was drawing to a close and the Reverend was gesturing to her to take the dirt from his hand and scatter it on the coffin. Numbly, she did as he asked, with Preston following suit. Then it was over, and people started to move away and head back across the meadow towards Grace's. But she kept her eyes fixed on Caroline's coffin, unwilling to move away, unwilling to leave her daughter behind.

"Rebecca?" Preston stepped in front of her, blocking her view. "We should go."

"I want to stay here a little longer," she replied, her voice sounding very far away.

"You can come back another day," he persisted, taking her arm.

"I said, I want to stay," she said, wriggling out of his grip. "You go."

"I really think that you should…"

"I'll stay with her." Rebecca looked up and saw Sully standing beside her. "It's all right Preston," he reassured him, "I'll bring her up in a little while."

"Fine," Preston said tightly.

"I know how you feel," Sully said after Preston was out of earshot.

"I know you do," Rebecca replied. "I wish you didn't. I wish neither of us did."

"You know that it ain't your fault, right?"

"In my head I do but…in my heart…"

"You think you should have been able to do more?"

Rebecca met his gaze. "I was her mother, Sully, and I couldn't even make sure that she was born." She looked away over his shoulder to where she knew Abagail and Hannah were buried. "How do you…?"

"Move on?" he finished her sentence. Rebecca nodded. "It takes time. A lot of time. It took me years to accept what had happened."

"But you have Michaela now, and Katie."

"Don't mean I don't still think about them. Don't mean I don't still wish they were here." Rebecca nodded. "You'll be all right," he reassured her. "But the most important thing to remember is that you have Preston. I lost my wife and my daughter. I felt like I had nobody to grieve with, nobody to turn to. You have each other."

"I know," she replied. Turning away from the grave she looked up the meadow to where Preston was hovering at the bridge. "I should go. Thank you," she said, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "For what you said."

"Any time," Sully replied.

As Preston watched Rebecca finally make her way towards him, he suddenly became aware of his parents standing behind him.

"Darling, are you all right?" Alice asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Yes Mother," he replied unconvincingly.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," she continued. "The minister said some very nice words."

"Yes he did." He paused. "I'm worried about Rebecca. Her emotions seem to be so… erratic at the moment."

"That's only natural," Alice said, "She's lost a child. I can't imagine how I would have felt in her position. You just need to give her some time. And you need time too."

"I'm fine," Preston replied hurriedly.

"It can be all too easy to forget the fathers in these situations," Alice said knowingly. "But you need time to grieve too."

"Come to Boston," Preston Senior said suddenly.

Preston turned to his father, "Boston?"

"Well why not? You and Rebecca haven't been there together and a change of scene might do you both good for a while. Give you a chance to get over things." He nodded as if this was quite obviously the answer.

"You might be right," Preston mused. "I'll ask her later."

XXXX

"Boston?" Rebecca said later that evening when Preston brought up his father's suggestion.

"My parents thought we could go back with them next week," he explained. "It might be good for us to get away for a while, don't you think?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," she said, carefully folding her shawl and placing it over the chair at her vanity table. She sat down and stared at herself in the glass.

Preston crouched beside her, "Being here right now is bound to be painful for you. I just think it would do you the world of good to have a change of scene. And Boston is beautiful this time of year."

"Isn't it painful for you too?" she asked, ignoring his proclamation about Boston's beauty.

"Of course," he replied, "but you were her mother. It's bound to be worse for you."

Rebecca rested her hand on her stomach, still slightly swollen. "Sometimes, I can't believe that she's not still inside me. I think that I can feel her move. And then, other times, my body thinks that I have a real, living baby and wants…" she looked away from her reflection. "I'm producing milk and…"

"You're tired," Preston interrupted. "It's been a very long and emotional day and you need to rest." He straightened up and held out his hand. Rebecca accepted it and allowed him to lead her over to the bed where she climbed in and lay there like a child herself as he pulled the covers around her.

"Preston?" Tears sprang into her eyes and her voice shook.

"Yes darling?"

"Do you think it was my fault that she died?"

Preston swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. "No," he said, pushing her hair back from her eyes and then bending to kiss her gently. "No I don't think it was your fault at all." He watched as she closed her eyes, then straightened up and made his way over to the door. Silently, he opened it and then closed it gently behind him. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated to the darkened hallway. "It was mine."