Cinnamon and Roses

by Heidi Betts

  She tried to concentrate on the happy conversation but soon found that even that small task caused a fine sheen of perspiration to gather on her brow. She moved behind one of the medallion-backed armchairs and gripped the mahogany rim, swaying slightly and biting the inside of her lip to keep an anguished moan silent.

  Then the room began to spin, and Rebecca felt herself falling. The sound of breaking glass filled her ears a moment before darkness claimed her.

  "Rebecca!"

  Caleb turned at his sister's cry to see Rebecca weaving back and forth unsteadily. He started toward her as the sherry glass rolled past her fingertips and to the floor, spraying sharp pieces of crystal in every direction. He knelt at her side and picked her up in his arms.

  "Somebody go for the doctor. Get him out here now."

  He stalked out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time. He pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder, letting it crash back against the wall. Throwing the covers aside with a fierce tug, he laid Rebecca carefully on the bed.

  Her skin felt hot and sticky to his touch. He turned to his father and sister, who stood at the foot of the bed, and began to issue orders. “Get cold water and cloths. I have to bring her fever down. Megan, find a fresh gown for her, and then go downstairs to wait for Doc Meade. Send him up the minute he arrives."

  Megan rummaged through several dresser drawers before pulling out a thin cotton nightdress and handing it to Caleb. Then she ran out of the room to help her father.

  "All right, sweetheart,” Caleb said softly, practically tearing her clothes off. “Everything's going to be all right.” He flung the heavy satin gown to the floor and began removing her underclothes.

  Megan brought a bowl of water and went back downstairs to watch for the doctor. Caleb soaked a cloth in the chilly water and bathed Rebecca's face and neck. Then he slipped the nightdress over her head and straightened it over her body.

  "Jesus,” he breathed. His hands stilled, and he stared for a moment. “Oh, Christ.” Spots of bright red and dark-purple blood dotted her inner thighs. Without conscious thought, he grabbed the towels from beside the water basin and pressed them between her legs.

  A moment of panic seized him. His ribcage seemed to tighten around his heart, and he struggled to get air into his lungs. What if she lost the baby? Dear Lord, she was already so far along. The child couldn't be taken from them now. Not when he'd just begun to think of it as real, as a little person they would soon be able to see and touch and hold in their arms. Tears sprang to his eyes. No! No, God couldn't be so cruel.

  He crouched beside the bed and increased the pressure on the towels until his arms ached. He rested his forehead against the mattress and smoothed his thumb over the back of Rebecca's hand. “Stay with me, sweetheart,” he said. The words were muffled, but he repeated them over and over.

  Twenty minutes later, pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Doc Meade ran into the room. Caleb lifted his head and stood, moving aside to give the doctor room to work but keeping pressure on the cloths between Rebecca's legs.

  Megan and Holbrook stood in the doorway, looking on anxiously. Caleb cocked his head and asked them to give him a moment alone with the doctor and Rebecca.

  "She's bleeding,” he said desperately.

  The doctor put a hand to Rebecca's forehead and dug in his bag for a stethoscope. He put the instrument around his neck, ready to continue his examination.

  "Why don't you wait outside, son."

  "No,” Caleb said sternly.

  "Caleb, I know this isn't easy for you, but you can't do her any more good in here than you could downstairs. Get yourself a glass of the strongest liquor you've got and wait. I'll be down in a few minutes. Go, son."

  Caleb reluctantly released Rebecca's hand and the towels, moved away from the bed, and left the room.

  * * *

  Megan helped Bessie arrange cups and saucers on the silver serving tray. She knew tea would be the last thing on Caleb's or her father's mind, but staying busy in the kitchen helped to keep her from imagining all the horrible things that could be wrong with Rebecca.

  For some reason, Dolores had disappeared after summoning Doc Meade. Megan imagined the older woman had stayed in town to see someone; she seemed to go in quite often of late, and always after dark. Bessie managed as best she could without assistance at those times.

  "Mith ‘Becca gonna have thum?” Bessie asked with her usual lisp.

  "No,” Megan said softly. “Miss Rebecca is ill. The doctor is with her now."

  "Thee be all right?"

  "I don't know.” Megan looked away as her vision became misty. Rebecca was such a part of their lives now. She was like an older sister, full of stories and eager to teach Megan new things. Megan didn't even want to think about what life would be like without her.

  "Don't need it then,” Bessie said, pouring steaming water from the stove into the china teapot.

  Megan watched Bessie with interest. “You don't need what?” she asked.

  "The medithin."

  "Medicine?” Megan's eyebrows rose. “What kind of medicine?"

  Bessie shrugged her shoulders. “'Lores put it in Mith ‘Becca'th tea. It good for baby."

  Megan's hackles rose in alarm. “Could you show me this medicine, please, Bessie?"

  Bessie turned and dug around in a clutter of herbs and spices. She picked up the only brown glass bottle in the lot and handed it to Megan.

  Megan pulled out the cork stopper and brought it to her nose. It didn't smell all that odd, she thought. But neither did it have a label to tell what it was.

  "You've been putting this in Rebecca's tea?"

  "'Lores,” Bessie corrected.

  "Dolores has been putting this in Rebecca's tea,” she said.

  The girl nodded.

  "Has Dolores put it in anyone else's tea?"

  She shook her head. “Only Mith ‘Becca. It for baby."

  "How long has Dolores been giving this to her?” Megan asked.

  "Long time,” Bessie said, stretching her arms out to indicate the passage of time. “Sinth thee came."

  "Since she came,” Megan repeated under her breath. Bessie began to lift the tray to take it to the parlor.

  "I'll get it,” Megan said, placing the bottle of herbs beside one of the cups. She picked up the serving tray and headed for the other room.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A loud rapping awakened Sabrina from her early-evening nap, and it took her a minute to realize that someone was banging on the door. She got up, put on a wrapper, and went to answer it. A flushed Dolores, breathing hard from overexertion, stood before her.

  "What do you want?” Sabrina snapped, annoyed at having been awakened during a rather erotic dream.

  "Miss Rebecca ... she's sick.... “The woman's words were choppy as she struggled for oxygen.

  At the mention of Rebecca, Sabrina brightened. “How sick?” she asked.

  "Bad. She fainted ... husband carried her ... upstairs. They sent for the doctor."

  Sabrina caught herself a moment before an excited giggle bubbled up from her throat. She coughed and regained control of her emotions. “You've been using the herb as I instructed, correct?"

  "Yes'm. Is that what done it?"

  "Oh, very unlikely,” Sabrina lied. “But why are you here?"

  "To tell you,” the woman said, leaning against the doorjamb as her breathing began to return to normal.

  "Stupid woman,” Sabrina spat, grabbing a dark-colored dress and boots out of the wardrobe. “You should have stayed there and found out what was wrong. You'll have to go back."

  Dolores shook her head adamantly. “Uh-uh. I ain't never goin’ back there. They'll know, I tell ya. They'll know I done it, and they'll kill me."

  "How will they know?” Sabrina asked, hoping to calm the woman's fears.

  "I don't know, but they'll know."

  Sabrina threw off her wrapper and sat to lace her shoes. “Oh, very well, blast it all.
Run away if you must. I'll do the rest myself."

  "But I want the resta that money you promised me,” Dolores stated.

  Sabrina huffed but got up and went to the bureau. She pulled out several wrinkled bills and thrust them into wrinkled hands. “There,” she said. “Take it and go away."

  "Yes'm.” Dolores turned to leave but then stopped. “Mrs. Adams. She ain't gonna die or nothin', is she?"

  "Of course not,” Sabrina said. “She'll be just fine, I'm sure."

  Sabrina closed the door behind the old woman and finished dressing. She no longer had anyone inside the Adams house who could give her information, so she would have to get it herself.

  She pulled her long black hair away from her face and tied it back with a thin brown ribbon that matched the dress she wore. It was dark enough that no one would see her. And everyone inside the house would be too preoccupied to even notice someone lurking outside the windows.

  * * *

  Caleb threw back his third glass of Kentucky bourbon and rested his head against the leather chair.

  What the hell was taking that doctor so long?

  His father stood at the window, smoking a cigar and staring out into the night. Megan was off somewhere doing whatever. Fixing more tea. Begging God to save Rebecca's life.

  That's what he should be doing, Caleb thought, somewhat ashamed that he hadn't considered it sooner. He should be down on his knees praying for his wife and child to be all right. But all he could seem to concentrate on was the fact that his life would feel utterly empty without them.

  Rebecca was the most important part of his world now. He fell asleep beside her at night and woke up beside her in the morning. They had arguments—which amused him no end—and intellectually stimulating conversations. Once she had even gotten him into a discussion about the merits of using horse manure in vegetable gardens.

  He smiled at the memory and took another gulp of whiskey. Setting the glass on the table before him, he put his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

  Maybe it was time to pray. There was nothing else he could do. And he felt so damned helpless.

  But where did he begin when he had long ago given up on believing that someone on high might actually care about a cad like him? It had been so long since he'd bowed his head in prayer, other than ritualistically, impersonally, in church, he wasn't sure he remembered how it was done. And who was he to think God would listen to him after all these years of angry silence?

  Still, he tried.

  The back of Caleb's eyes began to sting, and he blinked several times, astonished to see drops of moisture fall to the floor at his feet. Just don't take her from me, he pleaded, grinding his teeth. Not when I've only just learned to love her.

  His head snapped up. He wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his shirt and tried to grasp the last words of his silent plea.

  Yes, he realized in a flash. Yes, I love her. By Jesus, he really did love Rebecca. And he wouldn't be able to go on without her in his life. He bolted to his feet with a surge of newfound determination. He couldn't let her die. He wouldn't.

  Just then Megan came into the room with a tray of tea.

  Caleb headed for the door, but she touched his arm. “Caleb, I need to talk to you."

  "Not now, Megan, I have to see Rebecca."

  "Caleb, it's important."

  Something in her voice warned him not to leave yet. “What is it?” he asked, turning from the doorway, hands on hips.

  "I don't know if this has anything to do with Rebecca becoming ill, but—"

  "Spit it out, Megan."

  She took up a small brown bottle from the tray and handed it to him. “Bessie told me that Dolores has been putting this into Rebecca's tea."

  He uncorked it and sniffed. “What is it?” he asked.

  "I don't know what it is. Dolores told Bessie it was to keep Rebecca and the baby healthy. But I don't think that's what it's for at all."

  Caleb's fingers tightened around the bottle, and he pulled Megan into a swift, fierce embrace. “Thanks, little sister,” he said before running out of the room and racing up the stairs to the doctor.

  Sabrina crouched beneath one of the lighted windows, assuming the family was gathered inside. Another light shone from one of the upstairs rooms, but there was no way she could ever climb that high to sneak a peek.

  She pushed aside the scratchy branches of the shrubs that grew alongside the house, trying to get closer. A sharp piece of brush pierced her flesh, and she let out a stream of muttered curses. A plan that had started so simply was rapidly becoming a dangerous mission. She had to find out what was going on inside and then hurry back to town.

  Once again she pushed the bushes out of her way and grabbed hold of the windowsill. Her fingernails dug into the wood as she struggled to get a good grip. She used the shrubbery as a stepladder, climbing onto the narrow branches for support.

  Her nose just reached the glass as she fought to keep her balance and see inside at the same time. Caleb sat in a chair with his back to her. She would know him anywhere just from his full head of ebony hair. Holbrook Adams stood across the room. staring out a parlor window. Sabrina gave a sigh of relief that she had decided against sneaking up onto the porch to spy inside. He surely would have seen her had she done that.

  So the newly smitten Caleb wasn't upstairs at his wife's bedside. Sabrina smiled. Maybe this wasn't going to be as hard as she'd begun to think. Oh, Caleb was putting on a good show for the townspeople, but here he was, sitting in the parlor with his family as if it were any other day of the week, while poor, sweet Rebecca was upstairs deathly ill.

  Even if the pennyroyal only caused Rebecca to lose the brat, Sabrina was sure everything would work out. Without the child, Caleb would have no use for Rebecca any longer, He could seek a divorce or annulment, and Sabrina would be free to move back into his life.

  Yes, things were working out beautifully. All because of her careful planning.

  She readjusted her grip on the windowsill and rose on her tiptoes. She watched as Caleb bowed his head, holding it in his hands. If she didn't know better, she would think he was a grieving husband. But of course that was ridiculous. He was simply putting on an act for his family.

  Then a girl came into the room. At first Sabrina thought her a servant, but she so resembled Caleb that Sabrina knew instinctively it had to be Megan, the sister Bart had been asinine enough to shoot.

  The sister laid a tray on the low table in front of the sofa and stopped Caleb before he could leave the room. He turned to her, and they exchanged words. Sabrina strained to hear, but it was no use.

  Dammit! Megan handed Caleb the bottle of pennyroyal, and he looked at it suspiciously. Why the hell hadn't Dolores taken it with her? Now they would find out what was wrong with Rebecca all the sooner.

  Oh, well, it really didn't matter. There was nothing they could do to stop the effects of the herb, was there? She hadn't thought to ask the madam about such things.

  Caleb hugged his sister, turned, and rushed out of the room.

  Why did he look so happy to have found the herb? Perhaps he was glad to know Rebecca's illness wasn't just something passing, that it was indeed serious.

  Sabrina extended a foot, searching for support before letting go of the sill. She landed on the ground with a thump and a low groan. For a split second she wished she could have sent Bart to do this but then realized he would only have gotten himself caught. He really had been a bumbling idiot.

  She yanked her skirts out of the clawing bushes and ran across the yard, retracing her tracks back to town.

  When Caleb threw open the bedroom door, he saw Doc Meade bent over his still-unconscious wife. Beads of perspiration dotted the elder man's brow.

  "Dammit, Caleb, I told you to stay downstairs."

  Rebecca looked so pale and fragile that fear constricted Caleb's heart. He watched as the doctor ran his hands over the slope of her stomach.

  "Is she going to be all right?”
he asked.

  "Damned if I know,” the doctor said. He shook his head and apologized for the sharp words. “I just can't figure out what's wrong with her. Has anybody else in the family been ill?"

  "No,” Caleb said and moved forward. “But this could have something to do with it.” He handed the bottle to the doctor.

  "What is it?” he asked, holding it up to the lamp.

  "I have no idea, but Megan found out from Bessie that Dolores has been putting it in Rebecca's tea."

  Doc Meade squinted through the bottle, then poured some of the contents into the palm of his hand. “I'll be damned,” he said softly. “How long has she been giving this to your wife?"

  "I have no idea. What is it?” Caleb asked, clenching and unclenching his hands.

  "Pennyroyal. Looks like ol” Chloe over at the Dog Tick has been giving it out again."

  "What the hell does Chloe have to do with anything?” Caleb asked anxiously, becoming even more worried about Rebecca's condition.

  "She gives it to her girls when they miss a flux. If given in large enough doses right away for three or four days, it can cause a spontaneous miscarriage."

  "Sweet Jesus,” Caleb swore, running splayed fingers through his hair in agitation. “What will it do to Rebecca this far along?"

  "I'm not sure,” the doctor replied, thinking.

  Fury began to build in Caleb's belly. “You're not sure? You're a doctor, for Christ's sake. How can you not know what this stuff will do?"

  Doc Meade turned tired eyes to Caleb, then poured the herbs back, recorking the bottle. “I don't give pennyroyal to my patients, Caleb. And Chloe knows what she's doing, so I don't get many of her girls in who are sick from it. The best I can tell you is to let it work its way out of her system. Give her plenty of fluids. Maybe even help her sweat it out.

  "I'll pay Chloe a visit,” Doc Meade continued. “She ought to know a little about it.” He wiped his face with the back of his arm. “The bleeding has been minimal, just spotting, so I don't think we need to worry about the baby. Not yet, at least. I'll come by again tomorrow to check on her. And be sure to send for me if there's any change."