by V. L. Dreyer
"I can't hear anything," I cried back, frustrated and scared at the same time. "There's no one there!"
"There is!" Maddy burst into tears all over again, and pointed right past me at the doorway. "She wants you to be careful. She says that you shouldn't tell Mister Michael yet, because it would break his heart if you lost it. She wants you to promise that you're going to be careful. Promise her!"
"I don't understand," I admitted, tears rolling down my own cheeks. I shoved them away anxiously, and looked back at the door. "I just… I don't understand…"
Maddy turned and looked at me, her eyes huge and glistening with tears. "You're pregnant, Miss Sandy. You're going to have a baby."
***
The shock of that pronouncement left me speechless. I managed to whisper some kind of promise about being careful, but that was it. When the others finally came looking for us, they found Maddy and me sitting side by side on the floor, just staring in shock at the body. I faintly heard voices whispering behind us, but I couldn't make out what my friends were saying. Maddy looked at them, then stood up and went over to them.
"I'll show you where she wants to be buried," she said, then I heard footsteps retreating.
I felt a warm body come up behind me and recognised Michael's familiar scent, but I couldn't figure out what was going on. His arms closed around me, but today there was no comfort in them.
Netty was dead, and I was pregnant. How could that even happen? How? I was taking pills to prevent it, but… a baby. Oh God, I was going to have a baby? Was that why I'd been feeling ill over the last few weeks? I'd blamed the nausea on the head injury, or bad food, or car sickness, anything but… that.
And… and Netty… oh God, why?
Suddenly, I remembered the note sitting on her nightstand, beside the bottle of pills that had taken her life. My hands felt stiff and robotic as I reached for it, and I couldn't quite convince them to grip it. I felt Michael reach past me and take the note for me, but he hesitated over whether or not to give it to me.
"Are you sure, Sandy?" he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "It won't make it better. It might make it worse."
I just nodded dumbly, and reached for the note again. This time, he surrendered it to me willingly. I unfolded it with trembling fingers, and stared at the elegant, flowing script. The letters were beautiful and careful, with only the slightest indication that her hands had been shaking as much as mine when she wrote it. Netty had obviously laboured over her last words to the world, to make them as perfect as possible. I took a deep breath, and then read the note out loud.
"'To my visitors, and especially to Sandrine McDermott,'" I began, fighting the fresh wave of emotion that came from seeing my name in her handwriting. "'By the time you receive this, I will be dead. I ask one last favour of you at this time: please bury me beneath the old cherry tree in the back yard. Ten years ago, I lay my husband to rest there, and I would very much like to spend my eternity at his side.'"
Tears obscured my vision, and I heard a muffled sob escape my throat. I felt Michael's hand close around mine, and then his deep, husky voice took over where mine had given out. "'Do not weep for me, my new old friends. I lived a good life, a long life – far longer than an old blasphemer like me had any right to, really. My husband would have scolded me, and told me that suicide is a sin, but I feel that this is my last opportunity to put my fate in the hands of someone that I think I can trust.
"'I'm dying anyway; I can feel it in my bones. This summer would have been my last, and I wouldn't have lived through the winter. Despite that, I want to thank you. You've given me a gift far beyond a little food and companionship. You – all of you – you gave me the chance to remember what it was like to be surrounded by family again. I know I'm a grumpy old chook, but seeing those children running around again has made me happier than I've been in a long, long time.
"'Sandrine, we didn't know each other for very long, but I feel like I understand you. I don't want you to feel guilty. You've given me the chance to do something beautiful one last time, and I know that I can trust you to lay me to rest, and to remember me. I give you permission to take anything you want from my supplies, if it will help you. Take your people south, build your city, and know that I'll be watching over you from beyond.
"'Well, that's it. There's no graceful way to end this note, except to say goodbye. I'm off for an adventure of my own, into the last unknown frontier. It's time to find out whether my husband's faith was right. If it was, then I guess I'll be seeing him again soon. If not, at least I won't care anymore. Goodbye and with love, Netty.'"
"And just like that, another life is snuffed out," I said bitterly, my voice hoarse with tears. "She didn't have to do that. She could have asked us to stay."
"There was no point." I heard the doctor's voice from the doorway. When I looked at him, I found him looking sad. "She… she was suffering, Ms McDermott. Cancer, I think. It's hard to tell without the proper tools, but I know that she was in pain. She had been consulting with me for a while, but… I couldn't cure her. I just wish that she'd said something, so we could have all been here with her."
I looked up at the old man, struggling to make sense of what he was telling me. "Did you… did you give her the pills, Doc?"
"No." He shook his head slowly, his expression as numb and miserable as I felt. "I don't think I could have, even if she had asked."
"Of course." I slumped down, the strength draining out of me. Michael caught me, and hugged me tight against his chest, as if he could inject some of his strength into me through physical contact. Somehow, it seemed to work. I took a deep breath, and hugged him back. "We should bury her, and then we need to go."
"Let me take care of her," Michael said softly. "I know that the two of you were close. Why don't you go find something else to do? I'll call you when everything's ready."
I wanted to protest, but I knew that he was right. I needed some time alone, to think everything over and digest it. Nodding silently, I let him help me to my feet, and once I was steady I extracted myself from his embrace.
There was always too much to do and too little time, but at that moment I really didn't feel like doing anything at all. I went out into the courtyard and plopped down at the end of the pool beneath a shade umbrella, to watch the water and let my mind wander. The sound of the rain striking the water comforted me, but it also struck me as sad. It always seemed to rain on funerals, as if nature wept right along with us.
I was still sitting there staring into space when Michael came to find me. He wrapped me up in my coat and led me out to the freshly-dug grave. I watched like a statue as my friends lay Netty's body in the hole, wrapped in her favourite blanket. One by one, people stepped forward to say goodbye, but when my turn came, I couldn't find the words.
Once it was over, Michael guided me back inside and helped me to change into my travel clothes. He and the others took care of everything – packing my bags, carrying things out to the car, organizing the group, and even the unpleasant task of going through Netty's supplies to see what we could make use of. I hated that we had to, but I was grateful that they did it for me. The thought of picking over that old woman's home like a pack of vultures made me feel even more nauseated than I already did. It was like losing my grandmother all over again, and I wasn't sure how I was going to cope with that kind of pain.
Eventually, we were ready to leave. Michael helped me into the passenger's seat of the Hilux, then he vanished for a few minutes to make sure everything was in order. When he returned, he glanced at me and gave me a weak smile.
"I left everything unlocked but closed up," he said. "With the keys on the front desk, and a note saying that anyone who needed a place to stay was welcome there, so long as they clean up after themselves – and stay out of Room 25. I don't know if anyone will respect it, but… it seems like the least we can do."
I glanced at him and nodded my approval, unable to find the words to thank him. I didn't need to, though. I co
uld see it in his eyes. He reached out to gently squeeze my hand, and from that gesture I knew that he understood my pain, and that I needed time.
When he put the car into gear and finally led our convoy away from the township of Tokaanu, I closed my eyes and let the sound of the rain on the windshield soothe me. I was almost asleep when something sharp stabbed me in the shoulder, taking me by surprise. I flinched, but that just made Tigger dig her claws in deeper. With stalwart determination, the kitten scrambled over me and descended down my shirt front into my lap, where she promptly curled up and went to sleep.
I was stunned by the gesture. Even though I had been the first human to feed her, Madeline had practically adopted the little tabby. Tigger rarely let me pat her, let alone actually cuddle her. Half-expecting to be clawed, I lifted a hand and gently ran it along her back, feeling the softness of her fur.
Tigger didn't claw me, though. She did quite the opposite. She rolled onto her back and stretched out, purring contentedly. The sight of it was beyond adorable, and I found myself smiling in spite of everything.
How was it that the animals always knew?
Chapter Twenty-Three
For three days, we travelled southwards, slowly but surely making our way up onto the central plateau. The region had once been a national park, dominated by three massive volcanic cones, and miles of rocky desert. Nature still stood strong, even after the laws protecting it had vanished.
I wasn't surprised to discover that the road had seen better days; there had been at least one eruption in the last ten years, and numerous earthquakes. Here, the roads had been shattered and torn apart, only to have the cracks filled in by dirt, dust, ash, and weeds. It made for an uncomfortable journey, but that combination was still better than the deep mud on either side of the remains of the highway.
The group was subdued for most of the trip. I couldn't tell whether it was Netty's death bothering them, or if it was having the three volcanoes looming over them. I couldn't even say which one bothered me more. We made it past the two smaller cones without incident, but the sight of the last one – Mount Ruapehu – sent an ominous shiver down my spine.
Her familiar, jagged outline was hidden beneath a thick layer of cloud, but I didn't need to see her crest to recognise her. That mountain had been responsible for more deaths in my country than any other. If she chose to, she could wipe out my tiny party in a single swipe, and with it destroy what little hope my species had left. I kept my mouth shut, and my fears to myself. There was no point in making the others any jumpier than they already were.
By midday on the third day, we were almost clear of the central plateau. The weather had eased over the course of the morning; for the first time in weeks, the sun came out from behind a cloud.
"Let's stop for lunch," Michael suggested from the passenger seat. "Let everyone stretch their legs, and enjoy the weather while it lasts."
"I don't know," I admitted warily, my eye following Ruapehu's outline as the clouds began to lift away from her. "I'd feel better if we pushed on for another hour or two."
"Paranoid again, honey?" he teased, leaning over to playfully pat my thigh.
I gave him a dark look, then sighed and nodded. "Okay, okay. Just for a couple of minutes."
"Ten at the most." He smiled and gave my knee a gentle squeeze. "We won't even unpack anything, promise. If anything happens, we'll be ready to run in a heartbeat."
I cringed internally and cursed myself for a fool. Of course Michael knew what I was thinking. He could read me like a book. I just muttered something inarticulate and made a vague gesture for him to make the arrangements, then I focused on finding somewhere solid to park the truck.
Within a few minutes, everyone was on their feet and lunch was being handed out. Michael took Alfred down to the bushes beside the road to address the call of nature, leaving me alone. I took the opportunity to go find Dr Cross.
I found him sitting on the back bumper of one of the trucks, eating his lunch and absently swatting at the prolific sand flies that infested the region. He glanced up when I neared, adjusting his glasses.
"Ms McDermott?" he enquired. "May I assist with something?"
"I need to talk to you for a second, Doc," I replied, nervously glancing back over my shoulder to make sure that we weren't being observed. "Can we walk for a bit?"
"Of course." He eased himself up off the bumper, and gestured for me to lead on. I did so, and took him down a rocky bank beside the road, so that we were out of sight.
As we walked, I found myself silently brooding again. There was no way to be sure, except to ask my doctor. The problem was, I didn't entirely know how I felt, so I wasn't sure what answer I was hoping to hear. On the one hand, the idea of having to lug a tiny person around inside me for nine months while struggling to lead my group to a new home and found a city was almost too much for me to bear. On the other, I could imagine the look on Michael's face when I told him the news. If I really was pregnant… that would give him a reason to go on. And perhaps, it would give me one as well.
"You seem awfully concerned about privacy, Ms McDermott," Dr Cross pointed out. I looked at him, and found him watching me with the intense frown he got when he was trying to work out a puzzle.
"Well, it's a private matter," I admitted. I took a deep breath, and glanced back over my shoulder to make sure no one had noticed our departure. No one had. I turned my full attention to the doctor. "Doc… you remember when we first met, you gave me a prescription of the contraceptive pill? And you made me promise to take one every day, at the same time, and never miss a day?"
"I issue a lot of prescriptions to a lot of people, but that does sound like something I'd say," he replied in a half-hearted attempt at humour. "What of it? Do you need some more?"
"No, it's not that." I folded my arms across my chest, and stared thoughtfully across the plains at the vast, sprawling flanks of the volcano. "I've been taking them every day, just like you told me. Every day, at the same time, and I haven't missed any days. Is there… is there any chance that the pills could fail?"
"There's always a chance," he answered. "There is with any medication, particularly when we're relying on chemicals that may be well past their use-by date." He paused, then looked at me. "Do you think you're pregnant, Ms McDermott?"
"I don't know, Doc." Suddenly, I found tears welling up in my eyes, no matter how hard I tried to stay strong. "Maddy said I was. She said that Netty knew, and now that I think about it, I have been feeling pretty odd recently. Is there… is there any chance she's right?"
"There's always a chance. No contraceptive is a hundred percent effective," he answered dryly. "How long has it been since you last menstruated?"
"About six, maybe seven weeks," I replied, fighting the urge to panic. "But you said I could expect them to be irregular for a while, so I didn't notice."
"Which is entirely possible," he agreed. "Have you experienced any dizziness or nausea?"
"Yes, both." I hugged myself a little tighter, and closed my eyes to try and steady myself. "But not just in the mornings. I've always gotten travel sickness though, and I did have a concussion. I assumed that was why."
"It very well could have been either of those things. You've also been eating food that you're not used to, which can set off nausea as well," he said. "You may also be particularly sensitive due to hormonal changes in your body, pregnant or not. I believe I have some anti-nausea medication in my kit. Remind me to prescribe you some medication for the travel sickness. Now, have you noticed any tenderness, swelling, or general discomfort in your joints? Unusual fatigue?"
"My back hurts a little," I replied, with a vague shrug. "And I feel tired all the time, but I think we all do right now."
"Well, I can't tell you for sure until we've run the appropriate tests, but it does sound like congratulations may be in order," he commented thoughtfully. "Or perhaps, commiserations? I can understand if you're not particularly comfortable with the idea, after what happened to y
our sister."
"Christ!" The word just exploded out of me, and I buried my face in my hands. "It's not just that, Doc. I've… I've… been pregnant before, after the… the… you know… my body couldn't support it, I was too malnourished, and… God, Doc – I'm scared. I don't know if I want this or not. I don't know how to feel. What if… what if I have it, and it's born infected?"
I felt a sympathetic hand on my back, and heard him make a few reassuring noises. "It's all right, Sandy. If you don't want this, then we can… take care of it. If you are pregnant, then it's still early enough to—"
"What?" I jerked my head up and stared at him. "Are you suggesting…"
He shrugged helplessly, and gave me a weak smile. "Only as an option. No one's going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do. We don't even know for sure that you are pregnant yet. Don't jump to conclusions. Still, if it turns out that you are and you don't want the baby, then you don't have to have it."
"No!" I cried, horrified beyond words by the mere suggestion. "No, God, no – I'm not going to kill Michael's baby! No, no, no—"
"You don't have to." He grabbed my shoulders suddenly, bracing me upright. "Believe me, the last thing I want is for you to take that option but I would be doing you a disservice as your physician if I didn't at least make it available to you. You're in control of your own destiny now. You have the right to choose. No one can make the decision for you. Not Michael, not me, not your sister, not anyone else – only you get to make the choice."
"I-I… I can't do that." I swallowed a lungful of air and squeezed my eyes closed. "I just need time to think, to accept it. Please don't tell Michael, not until I'm sure."
"It's for the best. The first trimester is a dangerous period, particularly when you're still recovering," Dr Cross explained gently. Suddenly, he froze, staring over my shoulder. "Uh… Ms McDermott, perhaps it would be best if we continued this conversation another time?"