by Renna Peak
Confusion flashes across her face. “Me? You were the one who disappeared in the middle of the night. And then I woke up and couldn’t find you, and then the contractions started—”
“Contractions?” I grip her hand. “You’re having contractions? Is the baby—?”
“The baby is fine,” she says gently, stroking the back of my hand. “They think I’m dehydrated, that’s all.”
“Oh,” I say, sitting back slightly. “That’s…” I rub my hair. It’s wet in places and frozen in others. “You have no idea how worried I was. You never should have ventured out alone. Not in that weather.”
“Look who’s talking,” she says, eyebrow raised. “I could say the same of you.”
“That’s different. I’m not carrying a baby.”
“What was I supposed to do? Wait in that cottage for you? I had no idea where you were or when you were coming back. I was having contractions, and I—” She cuts herself off abruptly, shaking her head. “You know what? I don’t want to fight about this. I don’t want to fight at all.”
“I don’t want to fight, either.”
Her fingers run across mine. “You really should let them look at you. Your hands are so cold.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
“You’re shivering.”
“I’ll warm up soon.”
“The end of your nose is bright red, and—”
I silence her with a kiss. I feel her smile against my mouth, and I pull back slightly.
“What?” I ask her lightly.
“Your lips are freezing,” she says, smiling. “Promise me you’ll at least let them look at you.”
“Fine, I promise. But first, I want to look at you a little longer.” I weave my hand in her hair, looking down at her. All the fears that surfaced out there in the orchard come rushing back, but I push them down. I need to be strong for her, now more than ever. I can’t ever let her know how afraid I am. Can’t ever let her know that I nearly broke down.
I love her so much I don’t know what to do with myself. If anything ever happened to her…
“Everything will be fine,” I tell her softly. My voice is still ragged, and now that I know she’s safe, my head is aching again. “For now, though, maybe I should let you get some sleep.”
“Okay.” She grabs my fingers and gives them a squeeze. “Go let the physician look at you.”
I laugh. “I’m just a little cold, that’s all.” And probably a little dehydrated myself, given the pounding behind my eyes. Some warm blankets, some water, and some sleep should be all I need.
I’m still smiling down at her as I climb to my feet. As I straighten, though, all the blood seems to rush through me at once, making me dizzy.
“Andrew?” Victoria says, her eyes wide. “Are you—?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her again, giving a dismissive wave of my hand. But even that small gesture throws me off-balance, and I sag against the bed.
There’s a pounding in my temples as the room around me goes white, everything else disappearing.
Victoria
I leap from my bed, screaming for the doctor as I rush to Andrew’s side.
“Andrew?” I can barely breathe as I lean over him, touching his face. “Andrew?”
“Your Highness!” The doctor runs into the room along with a nurse and another one of the assistants.
It’s only when the doctor pulls me back toward the bed that I notice the blood everywhere. My stomach tightens as I think Andrew must have cracked his skull open when he hit the floor.
She pushes me back into the bed as the others attend to my husband. I try to resist—try to get back to him—but she holds me there by the arm. “Please…my husband…” Tears fill my eyes. For all I know, he’s bleeding to death, and she wants to hold me down in the bed. And for what? Nothing matters if I don’t have him. My life wouldn’t be worth living if Andrew wasn’t in it.
“Please…just…I need to know what’s going on. Please…” My voice cracks as tears stream down my cheeks.
“We’ll figure that out in a minute.” She looks over at Andrew, still holding onto my arm. “What happened?”
“He…he passed out, I think. But the blood…” I shake my head. “He must have hit his head—”
“The blood is from you, Victoria.”
My gaze snaps to hers before I look down at what she’s doing—holding pressure on where my IV had been a few minutes ago. I must have torn it out when I ran over to Andrew. “I…I didn’t even notice.”
“Hold this.” She motions with her head at where her fingers are on my arm.
I nod, doing as she says, and she runs over to Andrew.
More people rush into the room with a gurney, hoisting Andrew’s lifeless body onto it. And in another moment, they’re all gone, leaving me alone in the small examination room.
It takes me a second to get my wits about me, and I walk to the door, peering outside. I can hear the commotion down the hallway, and I stumble toward it.
There’s a group of people surrounding the gurney, all working together over his body. I can’t make out what any of them are saying, exactly, but they seem to know what they’re doing.
One of the nurses looks over at me. “Your Highness, you should wait outside.”
But I’m frozen in place, unable to move as I watch the group.
It’s a few more minutes before the same nurse stops what she’s doing and walks over to me, taking me by the elbow. “Your Highness, let’s get you back in bed.”
“But…” I make a weak gesture with my hand toward the commotion. “But…my husband…”
“We’re doing everything we can for him.” She looks directly into my eyes. “We need to get you back into bed.”
“I…” I seem to have forgotten everything in the past few minutes—who I am, where I am, what I’m doing here. My hand goes to my belly, and the baby inside kicks at my hand, reminding me of everything.
It must know, I think. Giving me a kick to reassure me that it’s okay. Something about that thought makes everything slow down, at least for a moment. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Andrew won’t let anything happen. He wants us to be a family more than anything. He won’t let himself die—not now.
It’s the only thought that brings me any consolation. My husband is a fighter—he’s far too stubborn to let anything take him away from me. From us, I think as I rub at my belly again.
I give the nurse a slight nod, and she leads me back to the room where I was before. She spends several minutes there with me, cleaning up the bloody mess I made before helping me back into the bed.
She turns back to me before leaving the room. “One of us will be back in a few minutes to let you know what’s going on with your husband. But please, let us do our job. Okay?”
I give her a weak nod as I lie back onto the bed. I hold my abdomen as I close my eyes, saying a small prayer that everything is going to turn out for the best.
I’m not sure how long it is before the physician returns to my room. But I can see by the look on her face that things are not good.
I sit up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed. “What is it? What’s happened—?”
“We’re not sure. I’m having him moved to the hospital in the city for more tests.” She shakes her head. “The most concerning thing is that we weren’t able to wake him. What happened right before he lost consciousness?”
I shake my head, trying to remember those last moments. “He’d been outside. He was cold—freezing. But—”
“It isn’t hypothermia.” She chews on her bottom lip as though she’s thinking out loud. “His temperature was normal. Hm.” She looks back over at me. “We’ll run some more tests. And hopefully by the time we get him to the hospital, he’ll be awake and able to tell us more. I’m just concerned…” She shakes her head. “We’ll run some more tests before we speculate on anything.”
I stand, following her to the door. “I’m going to the hospita
l with him. And don’t think you’re going to stop me.”
Andrew
I’m having the strangest dream.
I know it’s a dream because I feel like I’m floating. It’s a strange sort of weightlessness—odd, but not uncomfortable. When I hold my hand out in front of me, it looks and feels like my hand. But when I curl and uncurl my fingers, that odd weightlessness seems to permeate the movement.
Otherwise, my surroundings seem more or less normal. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was just standing in one of the corridors of the palace. I’m surrounded on all sides by a comforting, embracing warmth. It wraps itself around me like a blanket, making me feel sleepy.
But if this is a dream, I’m already asleep, right?
I turn. There’s light spilling from a room only a couple of doors down from where I stand. And smells—the air is heavy with delicious scents. Cinnamon and cloves. Rosemary and garlic. Something spicy and smoky. I hear things, too—laughter. Cheerful instrumental music. The clinking of glasses and plates.
I move toward the room, delighted anticipation filling me. I don’t know what awaits me in that room, but I know it’s something good.
When I reach the doorway, I stop dead in my tracks, just watching the scene in front of me. My entire family is here—including all of my siblings—celebrating. There’s a crackling fire in the large fireplace on the far side of the room. Beside it, a long table is covered with various treats and desserts and a simmering bowl of mulled wine. Beyond that, a tall fir tree with ribbons wound through its boughs stands next to a window. Outside, a light, fluffy snow is falling, and the windows are laced with an intricate pattern of frost. As my eyes move back to my family, though, I realize there are far too many of them. It’s not just my parents, my siblings, and various spouses and significant others…but there are a number of children, too. Far more children than I was expecting. Far more children than I recognize.
But wait—that’s wrong.
As I stare at the various children in the room—big and small, boys and girls, all scampering about and laughing and eating sweets—a jolt of recognition hits me deep in my gut. I don’t know these children, but I know them.
Victoria turns and looks at me. Her hair is up, pinned back in a way that makes her eyes pop. She’s wearing a simple cocktail dress in burgundy velvet and holding a baby on her hip.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says, smiling and holding her free hand out to me.
I go to her. It’s hard to tear my eyes away from her beauty, but I also can’t keep from looking at the baby. My baby. The infant is dark haired and round faced and dressed in a festive little jumpsuit.
A boy, I think as I get closer. My son turns and looks at me, his big, curious eyes finding me. He lets out a gurgling sound and reaches toward me with chubby fingers.
I have a son. Even though I know this is a dream, joy fills me, threatening to burst out of me.
I’m halfway across the room to her when something—or, more accurately, someone—collides with my leg. Two little arms wrap around my knees, squeezing me.
“Daddy!” cries the little girl, looking up at me.
I start. But as I stare down at the girl—she looks like she might be two or three—the recognition takes hold of me again, filling in the gaps in my mind.
My daughter.
I reach down and scoop her up, and she squeals and holds onto my jacket.
I have children. I look around, half expecting another child to run up to me, but the others seem to belong to my various siblings. While I’m watching, Victoria comes to stand by my side.
I have the most beautiful, amazing wife in the world. And two beautiful, amazing children. I’m so overwhelmed I can’t even speak, but fortunately, I don’t have to.
“Merry Christmas,” Victoria says, standing up on her toes and leaning toward me. She kisses me delicately, her lips lingering on mine until the boy in her arms begins to fuss.
“Merry Christmas,” I return. My voice sounds thick, like honey. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she says, her eyes bright.
“I love you, Daddy!” cries the girl in my arms.
“Andrew!” calls someone behind me.
I hate to look away from my family, but I do, turning to find the source of the familiar voice. But everyone else in the room is talking or laughing or eating. No one appears to have called me.
With a shrug, I turn back around. Almost immediately the warm glow of love wraps around me again, filling me. I lean down to Victoria for another kiss.
“Andrew!” comes the voice behind me again, just before my lips touch my wife’s.
I straighten. Something is wrong.
“What is it?” Victoria asks.
I turn around. Once again, there’s no one there.
“I thought I heard…” I shake my head. “I’m going crazy.” In my heart, though, I remember the truth—that this is a dream. And dreams can shift and change without a moment’s notice, pulling you from a beautiful fantasy into a nightmare.
I won’t let it take me from here, I tell myself. No matter what. I’m staying with Victoria and our children. Staying in this room with the joy and happiness and love. I don’t ever want to wake up from this.
“Andrew! You have to wake up! Please, wake up.”
The voice calls right to my heart. I turn around again, unable to ignore it.
“Please,” begs the voice. “Please, wake up.”
I know that voice. But I don’t want to listen. I want to stay here.
“Go away,” I tell it. “I’m not leaving.”
“Andrew…”
With a jolt, the heaviness returns to my body. Heaviness and pain.
No. I won’t leave. I squeeze my eyes shut, and the weightlessness returns. The room appears around me again. Victoria and my children are with me. Everything is all right. We’re all safe.
But something tugs at me, trying to pull me back. I resist.
And then I hear the voice again, and this time it sounds like it’s on the verge of tears.
“Please, Andrew. I can’t do this without you.”
Victoria. Victoria is the one calling me.
I turn back to the dream-version of my wife, but she’s already dissolving, our children with her. They dissipate into a million shining gold flecks. I reach toward them, but they slip right through my fingers.
And I have somewhere I need to be.
This time, the weight slams into me, making me gasp. My entire body is immobilized, heaviness and pain weighing me down.
But I need to be here. I can’t leave.
My eyelids each seem to weigh a ton. I can’t open them. But I can hear—the murmur of voices, the beeping of something electrical, the shuffle of footsteps. And I can feel—most of my body is cold, but there’s a distinct warmth wrapped around my fingers. Someone is holding my hand.
It has to be Victoria. I still don’t have the strength to open my eyes—let alone speak—but I try to move my fingers, to squeeze her hand back and let her know I’ve heard her. That I’ve returned to her.
It takes three tries before I can move anything, and even then, I’m not sure it’s enough. But then I hear her suck in a breath.
“Andrew,” she says, and I can hear the desperation in her voice. “Can you hear me?”
I try to move my finger again, and this time I must be more effective, because she calls out, “Doctor! Doctor, come here!”
I still can’t speak or open my eyes, but apparently I don’t need to. Victoria raises my hand up to her lips, squeezing my fingers as she kisses them. A tear drops onto my knuckles.
“Thank God,” she whispers. “Thank God.”
Victoria
I collapse onto him, my head falling to his chest. My emotions stream out of me as I sob into his chest, many I didn’t realize I was having at all. There’s the release of fear—I was sure I was going to lose him. Joy at knowing he’s alive. But there’s something else, too.
Anger, I think. Andrew has been so secretive these past months, so closed off. Part of me knows he’s been going through the same things I have—especially the underlying terror of something happening to the baby—and he’s been trying to keep it from me.
But he’s alive, and that’s all that really matters now.
The physician rushes into the room with a nurse, and I’m shooed out of the way as they hover over my husband again.
“Your Highness?” The doctor takes Andrew by the shoulders, giving him a good shake.
Andrew groans in response.
The physician looks over at me, giving me a nod. “This is a good sign. The best we’ve had all night. He should be waking up any moment now.”
I let out a choked sob of relief.
“I’m going to run a few more tests. We’ll have more answers in a few hours.”
I’m barely listening to her. As soon as she leaves the room, I go back over to my husband, sitting beside him again on his bed.
He still hasn’t opened his eyes, but his hand reaches for me.
I take it, curling my fingers around his. “Andrew. Andrew, you need to wake up.”
He groans again, his eyes beginning to flutter.
“Open your eyes, Andrew. Please. Please just look at me.”
He lets out another groan before he does as I ask, his eyes slowly blinking open.
I can’t help but smile. “Don’t do that again.”
He stares at me for a few moments, a smile coming to his lips. He reaches for my belly. “It’s a girl.”
My grin widens. “Did you have a vision or something while you were out?” I shake my head. “What happened?”
“I…I don’t know.” His brow furrows, almost as though he’s in pain. “Everything…everything went white.”
“Are you in pain? Your chest? Is it your heart?”
He doesn’t answer, stroking my belly instead, and the baby kicks his hand in response. Andrew’s gaze snaps to mine. “I think our daughter already likes me.”