by Jillian Hart
Chapter Eighteen
Something invaded her sleep. Something ugly and dark dragged her out of the cozy warmth of dreams and into consciousness. A sharp, deep ache brought her awake in the darkness. Not even a sickle moon’s light crept beneath the ruffled curtains to cast a silvery glow in the room. Something was wrong. She felt wet. When she sat up, her nightgown clung to her thighs. The pain came again in a hard cramping twist that radiated through her abdomen and streaked down her legs.
Her cry brought Austin awake. “Willa, are you all right?”
“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut but she couldn’t stop what was happening. She felt sick. She felt terrible. Tears squeezed between her eyelids.
“What is it? Is it a bad dream?” His arms came around her. He sounded too groggy to realize what was happening.
How could she say the words? The twisting cramp eased, but the ghosts of pain remained. The wetness remained. She knew what she would find even before she peeled back the covers. Blood shone black in the night’s deep shadows. She hung her head. “I’m losing the baby.”
“Oh, Willa.” His eyes popped open, fully awake now. His body warm and relaxed with sleep tensed against her. “You need a doctor.”
“The baby.” That’s all she could think of. Those little garments her new sisters had made. The little socks she’d started, still on her knitting needles. The child Austin would not be tickling on some future evening or chasing around the sofa pretending to be a hungry grizzly.
The baby.
Hot tears burned her face and plopped onto the covers. Her abdomen cramped again, making her shaky and weak. Pain streaked through her so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“C’mon.” Austin loomed over her. She caught a glimpse of a shirt—he’d already stepped into his clothes—as his arms lifted her from the bed. “We’re riding for the doctor.”
“It’s too late.” Misery battered her, more intense than any pain. What was Austin thinking? What was he feeling? How disappointed was he in her? She buried her face in his shoulder, holding on as he rushed through the house. Every step he took rocketed agony through her. Her hopes fell like stars from a bleak sky as he carried her into the night, running to the barn as fast as he could.
* * *
Waiting was agony. It was killing him. Austin surged up from the sofa in the doctor’s parlor, hands fisted and jaw clenched so tight his molars ached. He’d never been so scared in his life. If anything happened to her… He shook his head. No, he couldn’t even think it. She had to be okay. She had to.
“She’s resting quietly now, poor dear.” Bea, the doctor’s wife, padded into the room with a cup of steaming tea. “Silas says you ought to be able to see her in a bit. Here, now, this will soothe you. It looks like it’s raining again out there.”
“Another storm is blowing in.” Lightning snaked in the distance as Austin stared at his reflection in the darkly gleaming window. He accepted the cup from the middle-aged woman. “Thanks, Bea.”
“She’s young. There’ll be other children.” Kindly, she patted his arm, a motherly gesture. “Drink the tea. Breathe deep. She’ll need you calm.”
“Thanks.”
Bea slipped the cup and saucer onto a fancy little table and sauntered away. The stairs creaked as she climbed them, going up to check on the doctor and on Willa.
This was all his fault. He rubbed a hand over his face. He should have made sure she ate more. He should have put his foot down and forbid her to do so much work. No, he should have hired a cleaning woman to come in every day from town. That’s what he should have done. He should have taken better care of his bride. His beautiful Willa.
He swallowed hard, staring out into the endless void of night. Hours had ticked by. Soon the darkness would begin to wane and it would be a new day. Soon he would have to climb those stairs and face her. He thought of those tiny socks she’d started knitting and his heart crumpled.
“Austin?” Silas Wetherbee ambled into sight with his graying hair mussed, his clothes wrinkled and sympathy in his eyes. “I suppose Bea told you your wife is fine.”
He nodded, too choked up to say what was on his mind.
“I know that look. I’ve seen it on many a husband.” The doc nodded slowly, his eyes wise. “There was nothing you could have done. Sometimes these things happen. There’s no point blaming yourself for this.”
He knew the doc meant well. Even if Silas was right, it didn’t take away the tangle of guilt, regret and grief that had taken him over. Austin rubbed the back of his neck, where tension and worry had knotted his muscles into an unyielding knot.
“It feels like it’s my fault.” The confession tumbled out of him. “It’s my job to take care of her.”
“You have. No one could have done better. Now why don’t you head home? She’s sleeping now. You can come back in the morning. It’s only a few hours away.”
“No, I need to see with my own eyes that she’s all right.” He squared his shoulders, filled with a need so great he couldn’t begin to measure it. It held him up as he followed the doctor across the parlor. Every step he took on the stairs brought her closer to him. Nothing had terrified him more when he’d scooped her off their bed, imagining all that could have happened to her and the baby.
The baby.
Grief struck like a punch so hard his knees gave out. He grabbed the banister, holding on when the rest of him threatened to go down. That loss was hard to bear. He couldn’t imagine how Willa must have felt.
“We don’t want to wake her. She’s had a tough row.” Silas cracked open the door and stepped aside.
Austin peered into the room, where a lamp’s low wick tossed a sepia glow over the wisp of a woman asleep beneath a quilt. She hardly made a bump beneath the covers. She looked as if the most substantial part of her had left, lying there pale and quiet. It didn’t even appear as if she were breathing.
Strong love for her coursed through him, greater than any ocean wave and more immovable than any mountain. The stars in the sky would burn out long before his love for her ever would.
“Austin?” She stirred, as if she could feel him even in sleep. Her eyes fluttered open. The pillow rustled as she turned her head. When her gaze caught his, her sorrow hit him. Another blow he had to take as he shouldered into the room.
“I’m right here, darlin’.” He was at her side without remembering how he’d gotten there, sitting on the edge of the mattress to take her hand in his. It was cool and lifeless, as if she had no strength left in her.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke on a sob.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Not one thing. I’m grateful you’re all right.” He wrapped both hands around hers. The low lamplight behind him cast him in silhouette and shadow, but she could read the sorrow heavily marking his face as if he stood in broad daylight.
“I let you d-down.” She choked on the words. She couldn’t endure seeing the grief stark in his eyes. “You wanted the child. I know you did.”
“I can’t lie. I’d already started looking forward to being a pa.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. She felt the heated brush of his lips, the fan of his breath and the agony he sought to hide from her.
Disappointed him? No, she’d done something much worse than that. She could feel his heart. The connection between them remained strong, a tie binding their souls. The total anguish of his grief rushed through her with enough darkness to wipe out the light in the room.
The loss had devastated him. She couldn’t feel her own grief over the tidal force of his. Nothing she could do could ever make up for this failure. She felt hollowed out, empty, as if there could never be light in the world again. Tears welled behind her eyes but she did not dare let them fall. If she did, she might never stop. She might come apart into a thousand pieces. She m
ight never be able to put those pieces back together.
She’d lost her baby. Sorrow left her too weak to say anything more at all. Seeing the desolation in Austin’s eyes, she feared she had lost him, too. Wasn’t the baby the reason he’d chosen her advertisement out of a newspaper filled with so many others?
It was the reason he’d proposed, brought her here and married her. Every kindness he’d shown her and every loving look he’d given her was because she carried the baby. He wanted to be a father, and she’d failed at the one thing she could give him. To Austin, the only one in her life who’d shown her true kindness.
“All that matters right now is you.” His voice knelled with gentleness. “You need to rest.”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Defeat filled her, adding to her own grief, threatening to overwhelm her self-control. Tears slipped into her eyes, blurring her vision. Austin’s face swam in front of her, but she couldn’t let them fall.
“Do you want me to stay?” His question rang tenderly, but she was sure it was pity she heard layered in his tone. Sympathy, yes. Concern, yes. But pity out rang them all. The distance between them felt as wide as it had been when she’d first stepped off the train.
She shook her head, not daring to do more. If she spoke, she feared her self-control would break like a dam and all her sorrow and defeat would rush forth and he would see it all. She couldn’t be that vulnerable to him, not now, not when there was no baby to bind them together.
“Are you sure?” His hands tightened around hers. “I worry about leaving you alone.”
Proof of what a good man he was, she thought, swallowing hard. He’d lost everything, too, and he was still trying to do what he thought was right. She blinked, determined to clear her vision. It didn’t work. Tears stood in her eyes, refusing to retreat. All she could do was look through them at the man who sat protectively at her side, braced as if he’d taken a blow he refused to let break him.
A wave of emotion she could not hold back washed over her with flash-flood force. Overwhelmed, she lifted her chin, determined to be strong. She could not let it drown her. She pulled her hand from his. The one thing she could not do was give in to her weakness and rely on him.
“You g-go.” She croaked out the words, each one cutting like a blade. “I don’t need you.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. The pillow rustled as she turned her head away. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her emotions as still as she could so it wouldn’t hurt when he walked away. When he never wanted to see her again.
But he didn’t move. He sat beside her as the silence lengthened and the sounds of the night deepened. Somewhere a coyote called to its mate, a lonely sound that echoed faintly in the room and lingered between them.
“All right. If you’re sure.” His hand came to rest on her shoulder. He squeezed lightly, leaning in as if he had more to say but nothing came. Only more silence as he drew his hand away, breaking the connection between them, breaking it forever. He didn’t need to tell her that it was over between them.
The bed ropes creaked as he stood. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, to keep in her gathering tears. Need for him rolled through her, but she had to fight it. She couldn’t reach out for him. Not now. Not after this.
His footsteps struck like hammers in the quiet, taking him away from her one step at a time. Pain cracked through her chest, radiating from the center of her chest. She held her breath, afraid she would make a sound that would have him turning back to her. If she didn’t let him go now, if he didn’t walk out that door, then she would never survive letting him.
Just keep on walking, she pleaded silently, willing his feet to carry him out of the room. She tightened every muscle, holding back both her need for him and renewed grief at his leaving.
“She should be able to go home midmorning,” the doctor said. “She’ll need rest. Maybe one of your sisters could do the housework for the next couple of days.”
“I’ll find someone.” Austin’s words came clipped, like he was angry. Or maybe he was holding back a world of grief, the same way she was.
Everything had been going so well, things were finally wonderful between them, and then this. Good things in her life did not last. She should have known. She should have prepared herself better for a blow like this. How could she have been so naive? She knew better. She’d learned to be practical long ago.
It was Austin. He’d made her believe. His kindness and steadfast strength had lured her into thinking she was safe, she could relax and the hard times in her life were over. This—losing her baby and her husband in one night—was the hardest thing ever. She swallowed hard, forcing her grief down.
The door closed quietly and she knew Austin had not taken one look back at her. She listened to the rustle of his clothing, the murmured conversation continuing with the doctor, one she couldn’t quite make out. No sense of awareness flitted over her, as it often did when he gazed upon her.
Only when she could no longer hear the drum of his boots on the steps walking away from her did she let herself breathe.
* * *
I don’t need you, she’d said. Austin tried not to read anything into her words, but they haunted him all the way home. They gnawed on the exposed wounds of his broken heart. They clung to his grief, growing larger as the house came into view. By the time he’d unhitched and put Calvin up in his stall, her quietly spoken words had taken on an edge sharp enough to cut with every step. He shouldered open the front door, standing in the absolute silence of his home, listening to the absolute loneliness settle around him.
It felt as if she were already gone. He couldn’t explain why exactly as he shrugged out of his wraps and hung them by the door. It was just a feeling he had. He paced through the chilly house, his movements echoing around him. The place felt as empty as he did. He’d never forget the sight of her in the doctor’s bed, hardly able to look at him. She’d turned away as if they were strangers, as if there had been no laughter or closeness between them. As if there had been no kisses or the desire for more.
He saw the baby’s things sitting on the end table by the sofa, where Willa had left them. Wee things, so soft the calluses on his finger pads caught on the fine yarn. Grief pummeled him like the meanest blizzard, cold and heartless. His eyes burned as he thought of all his dreams he’d had for their baby. Willa must be feeling like this, too.
I don’t need you. Her words slipped into his thoughts, hardly more than a whisper. He sank onto the sofa, shivering in the cold. He knew what she’d meant—that there was nothing he could do for her but let her sleep. That was all. She’d said the words gently. He shouldn’t read anything more into them than she meant.
But he feared it was a turning point. That the closeness they had begun to share wasn’t strong enough to endure this loss. He buried his face in his hands and breathed deep, fighting a wave of pain and mourning that could drown him. He couldn’t shake the terrible fear he was going to lose her, too.
Or, worse, he already had.
Chapter Nineteen
“I know this is hard, Willa, but as I told your husband, there will be other babies.” The kindly doctor held her hand as he saw her down the stairs. “I have high hopes that by this time next year, you’ll have the start to your family you both want so much.”
How did she tell the man she couldn’t see the future? She couldn’t get beyond this moment, the one she dreaded so much. Austin was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs and she would have to face him.
Family? Those dreams were shattered, at least for her. She, who’d been so afraid to believe in dreams, wanted them back more than anything.
But it was impossible. The baby was gone and so was her reason for staying.
“You rest up for the next couple of days.” Wetherbee’s fatherly tone echoed in the stairwell. “Ta
ke it easy. I don’t want you doing anything more strenuous than needlework, you hear, young lady?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t think about the project she’d started knitting. Those little socks…
Grief arrowed through her worse than any pain, filling the empty caverns of her heart. Her foot slipped on a step, but the doctor held her upright.
“Easy, now,” he crooned. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Don’t rush.”
She gripped the banister with white knuckles, knowing the doctor couldn’t understand. She wasn’t rushing to be with her husband. She dreaded the moment when their eyes met and she could see how greatly she’d failed him.
“Willa.” Austin’s baritone filled the narrow stairwell, but she refused to look up. She glued her gaze firmly to the steps in front of her. One foot, then the other. His clothing came into view. She stared at his belt buckle and braced when he took her hand from the doctor.
“Take good care of her, now,” the older man said. “I’ll be by tomorrow afternoon to check on her.”
“Thanks for all you’ve done, Silas.”
She let go of the banister. Her shoes padded on the floor, and the front door loomed ahead. She turned to the doctor but couldn’t find the words to thank him. He seemed to understand and patted her gently. Her feet dragged when Austin gave her a gentle tug.
“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Warmth layered his words, but she could hear the hollow notes and the grief he tried to hide. How did she tell him she didn’t want to go with him? That since it was over, it would be much better for her to stay here? But his strong arm came around her to support her, perhaps thinking she needed it. He eased her along, so big and strong she couldn’t stop him. This was only making the inevitable harder. Couldn’t he see that?
“Evelyn is home right now getting everything ready for you.” He stopped at the door and held her coat for her. “Keeping the fires lit, the house warm and fixing a hot meal.”
“That’s nice of her.” The words tumbled across her tongue and over numb lips. Every part of her felt numb. As if she would never fully feel again. She stared at the garment he held for her, gave a sigh of resignation and slipped her arms into the sleeve. When he moved in to settle the garment on her shoulders, his heat fanned over her. Her body shivered involuntarily.