by Faye Sonja
She pulled her hand away from Charlotte's claw-like grip and wrapped her other arm around Thomas. "You don't even need to ask that," she said, placing her head against his chest. "Of course I feel the same way. I feel so glad that God led me to you as well..."
Thomas stood still for a second. He seemed to hesitate. "But you can't be grateful about the circumstances. Not really." He pulled her back, and turned her face to look up at him, her golden-brown curls spilling around her face. "Mollie, surely you would have things differently, if you could."
Mollie searched his face, as she struggled to answer him. "Thomas..."
He hung his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you."
She swallowed. "I just... It's very difficult for me to talk about these things."
"I know it is. I'm sorry. Let's change the subject."
"But Thomas," she cut in, her voice firm. "It's not up for me to decide God's plan for us, or to pass judgement on His decisions. If he had guided me to you, then it must be for a reason. Please Thomas, don't say that I would have decided to have it another way, because..." she had to stop speaking as her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Of course what happened, was terrible, and to ask if I would change it, well, it's not fair."
She pulled away and brought a hand up to her mouth, trying to cover her face, hide her tears, but her hand was shaking. Thomas reached over and took her trembling hand in his. "I"m sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Thomas," she said, looking up. "No matter what. No matter what happened - and I can't do anything to change it - I want you to know that I am happy to be here with you. And I am overjoyed that you are going to be Charlotte's papa. Please believe me when I say that."
He nodded, and tried to pull Mollie in for another embrace, but she suddenly took a sharp breath. "Oww," she said.
She leaned over, clutching at her chest.
"Mollie, what is it?"
She shook her head, squeezing her face tight, as she struggled for breath. "I...I don't know."
"Come on," Thomas said, putting her arm around his shoulder. "I'm putting you straight to bed. I'll send for Isabella right away."
Thomas ran into the practice, then entered Isabella's office without even knocking on the door.
"Thomas?" she said in a start, standing up. She looked him up and down. "What's happened, are you feeling ill?"
He shook his head. Winded from the run, he heaved as he struggled to explain what had happened. "It's Mollie, she's having those chest and stomach pains again."
"What?" Isabella said, shaking her head. "Are you sure, Thomas? Those were all symptoms of the pregnancy...they will be gone now."
"No, they ain't gone," he said, still wheezing as he spoke. "Please, you gotta come quick, I'm so worried about her."
She nodded, grabbing her coat and bag with all her medical supplies as they hurried back to the house, each shielding themselves from the cold rain and wind that flew at their faces as they went.
"Quick, she's in here," Thomas said, holding the door open for Isabella, as he showed her into the bedroom.
There was a sudden loud squealing, then the sound of a baby wailing, as Isabella raced to Mollie's side. "It's Charlotte," Thomas cried, looking first at Mollie laying in the bed, then towards the door as the baby's wails came through the wall. "Okay, I better tend to her. Isabella, please check over Mollie, make sure she's okay."
Isabella nodded and waved him away.
"Mollie, where are you feeling pain?" Isabella took a seat next to Mollie and cast an eye over the young girl.
"The same place as before. How can that be possible though? Unless there is another baby in there."
Isabella took out her stethoscope and placed it around her neck, before putting each of the earpieces in. She sat besides Mollie and put the cold end of the instrument up to Mollie's chest.
"Oh, Isabella..." she wailed. "Why hasn't it gone away? I should be better by now. The baby has been born, and I am still getting these terrible pains." She lowered her voice. "Oh, Isabella, I'm so terribly worried."
Isabella brought the stethoscope away. "Mollie," she said slowly. "I'm starting to wonder if that might be the problem."
She looked at her, her face scrunched up. "What might be the problem?"
Isabella placed her hands in her laps, sitting up straight to deliver her verdict. "All your worrying, Mollie. I think it is your anxiety causing the pains."
Mollie frowned again. "Isabella, are you saying I am making it all up? That I am going mad?"
Isabella shook her head. "No, not making it up, my dear. But I think, all this time, it wasn't actually the baby causing you pain."
"Then what was it?"
"Mollie, let me think how to explain this to you. Actually, you tell me, my dear. When do you get the pains?"
Mollie shrugged. "Any time of the day, or night. They seem to strike me down at any time."
"No," Isabella said gently. "I don't mean what time day. Is there any event that seems to bring them on?"
"Event?" Mollie looked confused. "No. It doesn't seem to matter what I eat, or drink, or whether I am doing physical activity or resting. Isabella, that's what scares me the most about the pain. That nothing I do seems to stop, or help it. Isabella, I'm so scared that..." her voice trailed off, and she could barely get the next words out. "I'm so scared that I might be dying."
She turned away, too ashamed to see Isabella's face, too worried that she was being silly, overly dramatic, and that Isabella would laugh at her. But Isabella didn't laugh. She sat in a deep, heavy silence. "Mollie, why are you so afraid of that?" she finally asked.
Mollie kept her head turned towards the window. "Because I know what death is now, Isabella. I know that someone can be there one day, and gone out of your life forever the next. That no matter what promises you make, they don't mean anything. God can decide to take anyone, when He wants to."
"Oh, Mollie..."
"And if something happens to me, Charlotte will lose another parent." She dropped her head away from the window and looked down at her hands, where her fingernails were digging into the blanket.
* * *
With Charlotte finally settled, Thomas put her down to sleep and wandered around the house at a loose end while Isabella saw to Mollie. He started to walk towards the bedroom, then stopped. "No, I’d best leave them to it. It might be private business they don't want me knowing about." He thought back to his own private visit to Isabella all those months ago, when his worst fears had been realized.
When she'd told him that, due to his injuries in the war, he would never be able to have children of his own.
He shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his mind. He backed away from the bedroom, trying to find something to distract himself with. He went into the sitting room and sat down, intending to smoke his pipe and read the paper, but there was a hard-covered book, like a journal or something, that he hadn't seen before, so he grabbed it curiously and flicked through the pages.
The photograph of John spilled out and fluttered to the floor.
Thomas reached down and picked it up, the black-and-white portrait of the fallen solider staring up at him.
"Oh, Mollie..." Thomas dropped down into the chair, his head falling into his hands. The photograph fell to the floor below. "Even after all this time, still hanging onto him..." He kept his head cradled in his hands, the photograph visible between the cracks in his fingers.
He shook his head as he looked down at the photo of the young man, proud in his soldier's uniform, his mouth in a firm, straight line. "He's so young," Thomas thought. "Not much older than I am..."
His heart ached as he thought about Mollie keeping this photo in her things, about what it meant. As he struggled over his emotions, he wasn't sure what made him the saddest. That Mollie kept the photo, or that she kept it in secret. Looked at it in secret. Keeping her pain so close to her like that. Unable to share it with him.
"She must not trust me at all..." he t
hought, sorrowfully. "If she can't tell me that she still keeps this photo, hidden away. I'm not a monster that wouldn't allow it, or get mad at her, if she wanted to keep the photo out in the open. Why does she feel the need to keep this from me?"
He kicked at the photo with his feet.
"Why does she still keep this photo, anyway?" he wondered. "She must still think of John as her 'real' husband. She hasn’t moved on. She doesn't accept me as her family, I can see that now."
He heard Charlotte crying again. After keeping his head in his hands for a few moments, he got up and walked out of the room, over towards her, glancing into her crib. "My sweet girl..." he said, looking down at her. He reached a hand down and Charlotte reached her hand out, wrapping her tiny little finger around just one of his.
"Sweet child...you don't know any different, do you?"
Charlotte stared up at him, eyes open wide, her cries subsided now she had Thomas's hand clasped in hers.
"You think that I'm your papa, don't you..." he said, sadly, thinking about that photo, still lying in the other room. "And so do I, sweet one. And I would do anything to protect you. But Mollie...she doesn't think that I'm your real papa. That's what I'm afraid of."
"Is everything okay?" a voice called out behind him, and Thomas spun round to see Mollie standing there. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, explaining that Isabella had left, and that everything was fine.
"Yeah, er, Charlotte's just been crying," he said quickly, turning back to the crib before Mollie could see his face. "Did she hear what I said?" he wondered, glancing first at the baby, then at Mollie.
But she just laughed as she reached her hand into the crib. "She's so cute, isn't she?" Mollie asked with a grin. "Thomas, we are so lucky. The three of us."
"Yes," Thomas said quietly. "Yes we are."
* * *
9
Danger Presents Itself
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“ My heart will remain my own, on
that I give my promise. But I need
to do what's best for my baby...”
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The following morning Thomas got up early, intent on tidying up the mess he'd made the night before. He reached down and picked up the photo of John, turning it over before he could see the man's face, and quietly put it back between the pages of the book.
He straightened himself up and looked in the mirror, able only to make out his reflection faintly in the pale early morning light that was coming in through the windows. “Well, if Mollie doesn’t think that I can take John’s place, be as good a husband and father as he could have been, then I will just have to prove otherwise.”
He made a firm decision as he looked at his reflection, his flaxen hair brushed back neatly under his hat, his expensive, sharp waistcoat peaking out from underneath his heavy coat. He would travel after all. Give him some time to clear his head, to figure out what Mollie meant by keeping that photo hidden. "It's the best way to make more money," he decided. "The best way to prove to both of them that I am the man that they need me to be."
He took a step back, making sure that the photo was hidden away properly in the pages of the book before he left.
* * *
"Are you working today?" Mollie asked, taking in Thomas' fine outfit, a crimson suit with a sharp waistcoat and pocket square. She held a crying Charlotte in one arm and a baby bottle in the other; she sat down so that she could try to comfort Charlotte.
"Yes," he said plainly. "I won't be gone too long."
Mollie looked him up and down. "That's an awful smart suit, Thomas. It looks as though you might be going to the city in that thing."
He shook his head faintly. "Not going too far." He kept his eyes down, not making eye contact with her.
"Thomas, please tell me if you are going somewhere. I'll worry otherwise."
"It's nothing to worry about," he said, thinking that the very reason he wasn't telling Mollie was so that she wouldn't worry. He wanted to travel to the city, not to deceive her, but as a way to prove to her that he could be the right man for her. The man she needed. The man that Charlotte needed. He took one last sip of his tea then placed the cup down.
As he finished buttoning up his jacket, Mollie startled besides him. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
"What was that noise?"
"What noise?" Thomas looked round, listening for a moment. "I can't hear anything."
Mollie shook her head and put a finger to her lips. "There was a growling noise. I'm sure I heard it. Just listen."
Thomas stopped buttoning his coat for a moment, stood still, and listened.
"Mollie, I can't hear anything. I'm sure it's nothing. You're probably just imagining things."
"Thomas." Mollie was cradling the baby in her arms, bopping her up and down to try to get her to settle and go to sleep. "Be honest with me, please." She reached out and grabbed his arm. "Is there any danger to us? I could have sworn I heard a growling noise. I know I did..."
"Mollie, how could you have heard anything with Charlotte crying like that? I really do think it's just in your head..."
"It's not. You know there are bears in the woods, Thomas. All kinds of creatures. You know what those sounds are in the woods, better than anyone. You're the one who's up there all the time."
"I try to avoid the place as much as I can, actually," he said, grabbing his hat and coat. "It's more the place for the likes of Kit and Jedediah, not me."
Mollie stopped bopping up and down for a second, though she still kept one arm gently rubbing Charlotte's back. "So you do admit that you avoid going to the woods?"
"Well, not avoid..."
"There must be a reason for that. Tell me, Thomas, if there is something dangerous I should be worried about." She glanced down at Charlotte. "You would tell me if there were bears close by, wouldn't you?"
"I've told you before, they won't dare come into town. They won't come anywhere near us."
Mollie hugged Charlotte even tighter, feeling the tiny, vulnerable child in her arms. "And they won't come anywhere near Charlotte, will they?" She looked down at Charlotte, who had just about worn herself out with all her crying, and was beginning to get the hiccups.
Thomas shook his head. "No, of course not. They aren't going to come anywhere near you and Charlotte. Do you really think I'd leave you all alone, go out to work, if I thought you were in any danger?"
Mollie stopped. "I...I suppose not."
He frowned and sighed. "You don't sound too sure. Don't you trust me, Mollie?" He shook his head. "I thought we were past all this. You do trust me to take care of you and Charlotte, don't you?"
He walked towards them and placed a gentle hand on the top of Charlotte's head. "Charlotte is my child. And you are my wife. I would never let anything happen to either of you."
"I just wish you would stay here," Mollie whispered. "I don't feel safe. Why do you need to go off to work all the time, even when it's not necessary?"
Thomas pulled back a little, staring at Mollie and shaking his head gently. "So, we're not past this then. You don't trust me."
Mollie swallowed and looked up him. "Of course I do, Thomas. Just, please, promise me you wouldn't go and leave us if you thought we were in any real danger."
Thomas stood still, staring at Mollie, and then the baby. "Of course I wouldn't." He walked over and gave them both a kiss. "Now, I really need to get going."
* * *
Another roaring sound came through the walls, and Mollie drew the curtains closed, as if keeping out the daylight and darkening the room could do anything to keep out a wild creature.
In her arms, Charlotte began to cry. "There there, little one," she cooed, patting Charlotte on the back as she bounced her up and down. "It's all alright. Nothing is going to hurt us." But she could feel her arms trembling beneath Charlotte as she spoke, and, almost worried she might drop her, she
put the baby down in her crib and went back to the window, pulling back the curtain to peek out.
She only dared to pull the curtain back a crack, and she held her breath as she peered out, half expecting to see a giant brown bear staring her right in the face.
"We need your papa here," Mollie said, turning around and facing the crib. "How could he have just gone and left us like this? Does he care about us at all?"
She turned back to the window and craned her neck out this time, to get a close look at the the road directly in front of the house that led to the pine forest. The noise was gone now, and as she glanced out she could see nothing at the front of the house.
Nothing at all.
Behind her in the crib, Charlotte had gone quiet. Mollie turned around to make sure everything was alright, but Charlotte was peacefully sucking her thumb, her feet curled up as she waved her limbs, staring up at the ceiling like she didn't have a care in the world.
Mollie started to breath again. "Perhaps Thomas was right. There really is nothing to be afraid of. It's probably all in my head, like usual."
She walked over to the crib and picked Charlotte up again, cradling her in her arms. "Shh," she said, although Charlotte was no longer crying. "It's all going to be alright."
Mollie took a few deep breaths. "How about we go outside for some fresh air, hey? Just you and me." She bounced Charlotte up and down, then with her other hand reached for her coat and juggled Charlotte while she pulled it on. She rigged Charlotte up tight in a blanket, before placing a woolen hat on her head, then walked towards the back door.
"There, see? There's nothing to be afraid of..."
"There there..." she repeated, still patting Charlotte's back, as a stillness descended over them. All Mollie could hear was silence, apart from the rustling of the pine trees, and a very faint wind blowing against her cheek.
Suddenly, a sound behind her stopped her in her tracks. There was the patter of footsteps, them a snarling noise, followed by a snort.