Xzan undid the straps. Inside were treasures she had longed for. Soft material in pastels, blue and white she noted. She could make clothes, blankets, crib sheets, booties, even a few little hats and stuffed toys with the assortment of supplies. Brett could have afforded to buy everything new, ready made, but that was expensive and he hadn’t even thought about the baby’s needs until she gave him the shopping list. She preferred making the items herself. Every stitch would be adoringly hand sewn with an attention to detail. She knew her child would feel every seam against delicate baby skin and was determined to make sure there would be nothing to irritate that delicate flesh. It would only be a few more months now. She was getting huge. Xzan smiled happily. Having this baby was going to be one of the best things that had ever happened in her life.
*****
Brett eyed her disdainfully.
“You look like a bloated toad! Aren’t you ever going to have that baby?”
Xzan had been cleaning the adjoining room next to hers all morning. Her back had hurt fiercely since yesterday. She felt driven to finish preparing the small alcove for her son or god forbid daughter’s arrival. Brett would kill her if it was a girl. It had become his new obsession. As if she had control over the sex of the baby.
She felt cumbersome. Her breasts were swollen enormously like ripe melons about to burst, as was her midsection. Everything was puffy. Her ankles. Even her toes. She’s stopped trying to wear shoes weeks ago. Not only was it impossible for her to lace them without help but it had been over a month since she had even seen her feet. She was so wobbly with her extra bulk in heels she might have plunged to her death on the stairs.
She gasped as an intense spasm of pain made her double over. The discomfort gradually receded into smaller waves. She knew instinctively her labor had begun. For the first time in her married life she cried out without permission to speak. Reaching out to clutch her husband’s arm, she panted.
“It’s ready to be born. Quick Brett, get a doctor!”
He looked startled then triumphant, permissively allowing her to hold his sleeve for support as she struggled to get to her bed. Then he was gone. What seemed an eternity later just when she was beginning to believe he’d deserted her to bear this agony alone, a middle-aged woman with her daughter knocked softly.
“Mrs. Colby. We’re here. Everything is going to be alright. Don’t you worry.”
Xzan nodded grateful to the two women moaning softly.
“Please, help me. I’m so glad you came.”
She doubled over in agony. Unable to utter a sound it hurt so excruciatingly. They were shocked at the sight of the young woman’s bony visage. Especially a gentlewoman. She lay writhing in pain her long dark hair wild, tangled against the pillow. There were dark circles under her eyes so deep it was evident she had been ill for some time.
Mrs. Colby seemed oblivious to them once they got her turned over on her side to ease the labor pains. Sank into a deep slumber. The older woman was relieved for the poor little thing. It was apparent she was very young. Not more than fifteen or sixteen at the most. The bruises on her upper torso and arms spoke volumes. Mother and daughter undressed the young girl tenderly careful not to add to her distress any further. When she awoke a few hours later Xzan was in too much pain to care about her modesty. Indebted for their aid in guiding her through childbirth.
The suffering increased. After what seemed an eternity Amanda instructed Cecile to help raise their patient urging Xzan to push. The young girl obliged now so wracked with pain she couldn’t talk or cry out. It felt like her guts would fall out. She continued giving all she had until Amanda calmly told her to stop. The baby’s tiny fist had popped out first. Its shoulder was lodged. She would have to turn it manually.
The older woman instructed her daughter to hold on to Xzan while she manipulated the baby. It was an excruciating procedure. Xzan felt shock waves throughout her body and too spent to even moan she succumbed to the lightheadedness easing her in to a dark void. Breathing had become too much of an effort. She felt herself rise floating gently out of and above her body. She looked down disinterestedly as the two women below struggled to pull the child out of it.
“She’s dying, quick take the baby before it‘s too late!” Cecile cried.
She was rising faster, gently pulled toward the heavens. It grew dark. Then she turned, moving forward, going faster and faster until she was soaring like an eagle. She saw colors bursting around her, that she had never dreamed existed. Heard music unlike anything she could mimic on the piano or harp. A tremendous surge of energy and joy inflamed her being. She exalted in the knowledge that she was going home at last! An overwhelming love more powerful than any other she’d ever experienced heralded her arrival. She would be seeing him in a moment. It had been too long.
She didn’t care what she left behind. It was unimportant. This was reality. Where she belonged. Where she came from. Full of energy. She felt solid even though she knew she had left her physical form behind. She could see and hear but her thoughts floated around her. She could hear them like voices. She began singing with all her heart. Unifying music that was foreign yet somehow part of her. She was beginning to remember. Life on earth ceased to be important. She was only vaguely aware of it now. Anticipated what lay ahead sure that at any moment it would become clear. She rose higher rushing ahead even faster, heart bursting with the most incredible sense of happiness and well being she had ever known. Unafraid of anyone or anything. Going to a place where there was no reason to fear. Where she knew she was loved so deeply that it would heal her soul.
Then there was someone else beside her. Blocking her way. Forcing her to stop. It was him. Scowling. Speaking to her without moving his lips.
“You must go back. It’s not your time. You have much to finish.”
She struggled to pass him. He felt strong. Real. Even more real than in her dreams. He wrapped himself around her. A blanket of energy pulling her forcefully back in to the direction she’s came from.
“No!” she cried out brokenly. “ I don’t want to go back. Please don’t make me. There is nothing there for me. Let me go home!”
He shook his head sadly.
“There is a purpose in all things. You have a purpose. You must finish what you started.”
He continued imprisoning her pushing her back against her will. Ignoring her pleading. She felt the jolt of pain the moment she reentered her body. Opening her eyes weakly choking on air she saw Cecile holding her baby crying bitterly. Its body was dark almost black. The young woman was shocked when she realized Xzan was looking at her.
“Mother, she’s alive!”
Amanda Stark rushed from the end of the bed where she’s been trying to mop up some of the blood preparing the girl for burial. She swept Xzan ecstatically against her large bosom declaring;
“Oh my dear, I thought we’d lost you both! I’m so glad God saw fit to send you back to us. You’re much too young to die!”
Xzan longed to bask in the warmth of her kindness but now her eyes rooted to her child. She wept inconsolably. Too weak to care that she wasn’t alone. The older woman patted her comfortingly.
“It was God’s will. The poor little thing was just too delicate to breathe on her own. It’s hard the first time. Don’t be afraid to have other children. It gets easier with each birth. Next time you’ll be older. Your body will be more prepared for it.”
Xzan closed her eyes tightly trying to block out the insanity. She didn’t want to see her daughter dead. She loved her baby. She wanted to die too but God wouldn’t let her leave this nightmare. Amanda and Cecile stayed with her through the night until they were sure she had quit hemorrhaging. Needing to bury the infant and report it’s birth and death to the proper officials they left her to get her rest promising to check on her later that day.
Brett had evidently heard the news. Amanda had agreed to go by his club where he awaited the glad tidings to let him know the events of this evening in person. He must h
ave been disappointed by the news of his child’s death and sex. He didn’t bother to come home that night. Xzan stopped fretting over his arrival expecting a beating when he did show up. She fell into a swoon so deep she wouldn’t have known if a cyclone hit the house.
*****
He was waiting for her. Alone. Taking her on to his lap he held her humming some strange song. She knew he was trying to heal her. Could feel the strength in his body radiate to hers. She allowed herself to remain limp in his arms absorbing the energy he was circulating between their bodies. Unafraid she trusted him to hold her until she could stand alone. He didn’t even seem to care that blood seeped between her thighs spreading across the blanket he wore around his waist.
*****
She was unconscious nearly three days. If anyone thought it was odd that she didn’t ask for her husband the moment she was lucid they politely refrained from commenting on it. In her delirium Amanda and several other neighbor women who had taken turns sitting with the young girl had figured out exactly what had been going on since she married Brett Colby. Some shuddered realizing it could have been one of their daughter’s laying lying here in this predicament. Brett had been a very desirable match until now. It had broken several hearts when he married seemingly out of the blue.
The shock of losing her baby and nearly dying herself was enough for any young bride to handle. Since Xzan never asked about Brett no one volunteered any information. They took turns sitting with her in the following weeks. Spooning broth into her parched lips and reading to her to take her mind off the pain she was suffering. Her bleeding had stopped completely but she was too weak and breathless to rise from her bed. She had starved and worked herself too hard during the pregnancy. It was as if there was no strength left to sustain her. She looked like a frightened doe every time she heard the sound of hooves in the driveway. Would pluck at the corners of her quilt agitatedly. One morning Cecile couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Mother you have to tell her. Can’t you see she’s half out of her mind with fear?”
Amanda Stark shushed her daughter loudly. Xzan wasn’t ready to be ignored after that impassioned outcry.
“Tell me what Cecile?”
Amanda eyed her pensively, debating. Saw for the first time that there was a hint of color in those delicate cheeks and some will in the way she raised herself up in the bed. She sighed, sat beside her taking Xzan’s small hands into her own.
“You’ve been through so much. We didn’t think your heart could handle anymore shock. But after nursing you all this time when you were half out of your mind with fever seeing the evidence of his abuse…No don’t try to deny it dear… you have nothing to fear any longer. Your husband won’t be coming back. This is your home now.”
Xzan caught her breath in hope then anxiety. Begging the other woman silently with hopeful eyes she ventured.
“What do you mean?”
Kindly brown eyes peered back in triumph. “He was drunk. Cheating at the gaming tables. He drew his pistol on one of the men. Was shot when the other man defended himself. He’s dead. Brett Colby will never hurt you again.”
Chapter Four
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider? I’m sure your family would want you to come back home. They could help you find a suitable match when you’re ready. This is such a dangerous journey with no guarantees that you will ever make it safely to your destination.” The slender young man with the lank brown hair and puppy dog eyes beseeched her mournfully.
Xzan patted his arm reassuringly.
“Thank you for your concern Mr. Monroe. But truly…it is misplaced. I have no desire to ever… marry… anyone else. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve already purchased the house in Sweetbriar. The town has hired me as their schoolmarm.”
She smiled disarmingly up at the man, continuing.
“I’m not as delicate as I look. I will survive the passage. I’ll write to let you know how silly your fears have been for my safety as soon as I get settled in.”
Charles Monroe still suffered pangs of guilt. There was no way for him to know that his unintentional role in Brett’s death had given Xzan the freedom to live. To follow the dreams she’d had since early childhood. She would not enlighten him now. The gentleman had come to her aid in a man’s world helping her settle Brett’s debts. He’d overseen the sale of the house. Had located the travel agents that had found a new home and employment for her abroad in the Americas. At the moment he was securing her trunks aboard the ship that would take her far from the memories she was intent on putting behind her.
She had written her family just this morning. Letting them know of Brett’s demise as well as her own destination. By the time they received it there would be no way they could intercept her journey. It had been three months since Amanda Stark gave her the news that had changed her life. She explained in her parent’s letter that she had been deathly ill after losing her child and then in shock over her husband’s demise and it had taken this long to discuss it. The truth was she had done everything in her power to speed up her flight and get well praying that they wouldn’t hear the news via the grapevine before she was at a safe distance. She would never again allow her father or any man to control her destiny. The thought of Papa pawning her off on another monster was an outrage she was determined to avoid at any cost.
In the past few months Charles Monroe, Amanda and Cecile Stark and several other neighbors had come to her rescue educating her on the legalities involved in inheriting her husband’s estate. Despite the fact that Nicolas Colby’s fortune has reverted to charity Brett had quite a substantial bit of his own thanks to his tight fist and business acumen. The remainder when all debts were paid in full still left Xzan with a hefty nest egg of her own. With a job already secured once she reached her new home she would be set for the rest of her life financially.
Mr. Monroe had helped her open a bank account. Unbeknownst to him or anyone else there was a tidy sum of cash sewn inconspicuously in the hem of her petticoats. In case she had unforeseen problems along the way she wouldn’t be waylaid by having to wait for her funds to be transferred to another bank. Nor would she be at the mercy of anyone.
Since deciding on a course of action Xzan had studied everything she could find about the area she was headed for. She’d heard the horror stories as everyone had. She believed it was a perilous undertaking. Most of the people who headed west never even reached it due to the elements, Indian attacks, illnesses, ignorance, lack of proper supplies or money and countless other misfortunes. She also knew that compared to the beatings she had endured the past few years that the possibility of seasickness aboard ship or sleeping under a wagon in the dead of winter sounded more like a discomfort than a death threat.
Above all else she felt drawn west. She had the “Call of the Wild” as she’d seen it described in books. Men carried guns for protection as well as to hunt for food for their families. Females were scarce, looked upon as gold. Their lives were incredibly rough. Women often died young either in childbirth or they just plain worked themselves to death. Children had to pull their own weight along side their parents often going hungry until the evening meal. There was never enough shoes, clothing or quilts. Women hosted quilting bees to help each other and to the fill the lonely gap between visitors. Men had barn raising to give their neighbors a start. All in all if you could brave the bitter cold, blistering heat, grow crops, herd cattle, get past thieves, gold diggers and keep from being scalped by the Indians you might survive long enough to enjoy the magnificence of the wilderness. It was said to go on forever. It couldn’t be done justice except by the naked eye.
Xzan was going to see it for herself. Hard work was no stranger to her. The idea of teaching children who might otherwise never have a chance for an education made her feel needed. She knew exactly what she was getting in to. As Mr. Monroe aided her step up on the gangplank she handed him the letter asking him sweetly if he would post if for her. The man was delighte
d to be of service hoped to receive one of his own very soon. She boarded ship turning to wave fondly at him suddenly feeling a little lost now that she was in actuality totally alone from now on. Xzan hadn’t cried since the night her daughter died. Now the tears unexpectedly threatened to spill stinging her eyelids. She was so relieved to be on her way truly free at last that one fat tear trickled unheeded down her cheek.
That was his first sight of Xzan Colby. A frail flower swaying delicately in the wind. The salty ocean breeze whipping glossy ringlets wildly against a tiny waist vivid blue eyes luminous with an emotion too deep to share. She looked unrequitedly sad, vulnerable standing there alone. He wondered what she was doing aboard. Where she was headed. A funny feeling settled in his gut. The desire to protect her.
Grown ups were supposed to protect children. Not the other way around. He was only thirteen. When he felt lost he turned to his mother. So why did he have this urge to take care of a girl who was older, already grown? He’d have to chaw that one awhile. For now his father was calling him to join the family in their cabin. He’d have to ponder later.
*****
Xzan wrinkled her nose in disgust as she opened her cabin door.
“Phew!” she exclaimed as the putrid smells assailed her delicate nostrils. Used to an immaculate environment the stench of the berth’s previous occupant was overpowering. A combination of stinky feet, dirty linens, sweat and moldy food made her gag. She refused to start her voyage this way.
“This is ridiculous” she muttered frustratedly “I can’t travel for weeks in this filth. It’s inconceivable the Captain allows such sloth.”
She walked purposefully to the top deck returning a few minutes later with a pail of water, scrub brushes and a bar of lye soap. It was the best she could find under the circumstances. It would have to do. She spent the next hour vigorously scrubbing the narrow room from top to bottom handing the filthy bed linens to a passing porter using her own to remake the small aperture. It was nothing more than a wooden board hung by chains in the side of the wall with a well-worn straw mattress atop. Made up with fresh sheets and her colorful quilts it looked quite inviting.
Singing Heart Page 7