Abiding Love: Banished Saga, Book Eight

by Flightner, Ramona

  “She is considering targeting the senators who were against the Anthony Amendment, especially that wily man from Idaho. She has women there who are willing to work against his reelection.”

  “Senator Borah will say whatever he needs to in order to be reelected,” Zylphia said. “He excelled at evasive tactics when I was in Washington.”

  “I imagine he is like many of his cohorts. As for the amendment, I refuse to think of it as dead. It’s merely postponed. I must hope the new Congress will take up this challenge once again next year.”

  Zylphia relaxed against the back of the settee. “I hope so too. Somehow the senators need to understand the reckoning they will face if they do not vote for passage of the amendment.”

  * * *

  Parthena burst from the automobile, failing to wait for the driver to open her door for her. She barreled past people walking by her on the street and ran up the steps to her home, heedless of the spectacle she made. She pushed on the door, screaming in frustration to find it locked. She pounded on it, swaying from foot to foot as she waited for it to open. When the butler finally cracked open the door, she pushed on it with all her weight, thrusting it open and gaining entrance.

  She flung her travel coat to the floor, dropped her purse on top of it and ran to the stairs. “Don’t tell me I’m too late,” she yelled as she ran. She ascended the stairs and raced to the bedroom she shared with Morgan. At the door, she paused, her gasping breath rising as wisps of steam in front of her.

  After a momentary attempt to compose herself, she pushed open the door and entered the room. The nurse rose and bustled toward her, arms outstretched as though to propel her from the room. Parthena skirted around her and moved to Morgan’s side. “I’m his wife,” she hissed at the nurse. “You will not keep me from him.”

  “It’s not safe for you here. You too could become gravely ill,” the nurse argued.

  Parthena shook her head and clasped Morgan’s hand as she sat on a chair next to him. She frowned as he shook with a fever. “What can I do for him?” she whispered, raising terrified eyes to the nurse.

  “There’s nothing to do but wait and hope,” the nurse said. She frowned as she watched Parthena wipe at his brow. “If you are intent on remaining, you should wear this.” She thrust a flimsy cloth mask at Parthena.

  Parthena grimaced at it before donning it. “Thank you. You look as though you could use a respite. Please go to the kitchens and have some tea and a snack.” The nurse departed after being effectively dismissed.

  Parthena studied Morgan, weakened by the fever, coughing and illness. In a short time, it appeared he had lost weight, had dark circles under his eyes and was covered in a fine sweat from the fever. His natural vitality had been replaced by an air of fragility. She washed his forehead, cheeks and neck, rising to replace the soiled cloth with a new one and to find fresh water.

  “Drink this, my love,” she whispered. She groaned with frustration when it dribbled out of his mouth and down his neck. Even with coaxing and tickling of his neck, she failed to induce him to swallow any water.

  “Please, Morgan. Please,” she murmured. “I can’t …” She fought tears, and they soon tracked down her cheeks. “I can’t lose you.”

  * * *

  Hours later she returned to his room after she had rested in another bedroom. She sat beside Morgan, her mask on and her hand clinging to his. The doctor had just left, looking haggard as he made his rounds, with plans to return in the morning. He had told her that, if Morgan lived through the night, he had a good chance of surviving. She watched as he coughed and struggled to breathe, and tears coursed down her cheeks. “Please fight, Morgan. Fight for me. For us. For our baby.” She gripped his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?” she whispered. “We were children, and I was five or six. I thought you would help me build my tree house and have adventures with me.” She sniffled. “But you never seemed to like me or my desire to do the unconventional. I hate that I thought you boring.” She swallowed a sob. “You were always there, my love. Whenever I needed a hand or an adversary to bolster my courage, you were there.” Her eyes shone as she looked at him. “Do you remember our argument at the New Year’s Eve Dance?” She smiled through her tears and traced a finger over his unshaven jaw. “When I pushed you into the fountain?”

  She lowered her head and fought a sob. “I was too stubborn to realize you loved me, even then. I hate all the time we lost.”

  She rested her head next to his arm a moment. “Oh, I wish I’d known, all those years ago, about how you suffered. But I know now, darling. And I love you. So much. Please, fight this illness. Be with me as we have our baby.”

  She stopped speaking for a few moments as she fought a sob. “I know you wanted me out of Boston as the influenza worsened. But it was coming to Washington too. And I couldn’t stay away when I received the telegram you were ill.” She frowned and continued to babble to her insensate husband, wiping at his brow as he began to sweat again rather than shake from cold.

  “Besides, the amendment failed, darling. After all the work Alice and Ro and all the other women did, the amendment failed. There is still so much to be done, and I want you beside me as we work to achieve this goal.” She reached for a dry cloth and wiped at his brow again. “I want you beside me as I vote for the first time.”

  “Please, Morgan. Fight.” She continued to speak to him, her anxious gaze tracking the rise and fall of his chest, taking comfort in each breath.

  * * *

  Savannah rubbed her belly as she sat in a chair in her father’s parlor. She listened to one of Lucas’s songs play on the gramophone, her eyes closing with pleasure at the beautiful music. When the door opened, she smiled in expectation of welcoming Jeremy and Melinda. She had not seen Melinda for days and was eager to see her daughter. When she beheld only Jeremy, she frowned. “Where is Melly? I want her here with us.”

  Jeremy ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the door. “She’s decided to remain with Aidan and Delia.”

  “Why? I know she is fond of them, but I want her here with us. She’s spent enough time with them, traveling to see universities. I know you thought it sensible for her to leave Boston, but I want her here now. I want her to have time with my father.” She rubbed at her belly again, smiling as the baby kicked against her hand.

  Jeremy wandered the sitting room as though in a trance. His silence was profound as the gramophone had ceased playing.

  “Jeremy?” Savannah heaved herself up and waddled toward him. “What is going on? I’ve known for a few days something is wrong. Is it Richard?”

  Jeremy clenched and unclenched his fists on his thighs, although he refused to look at her. “I haven’t spent any time with Richard.” He met her confused look. “Melly hasn’t been traveling around the state, looking at universities.” He met her gaze, his filled with panic and dread. “Melly is ill. Delia is caring for her.”

  Savannah gasped and collapsed into a chair near him. “How could you have kept such a thing from me?” She took a deep breath as her heart raced with abject terror. The daily papers were filled with tales of those who’d died from the Spanish Influenza. Just recently she’d read about a young woman who had improved only for her mother to find her dead the next morning. “How could you?”

  Jeremy spun and glared at her. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted you beside me? What it’s like to watch someone I love …” He wiped at a tear on his cheek as he met her devastated gaze.

  “No,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me that.” She rose with an unexpected alacrity for a heavily pregnant woman and would have hit him on his chest, but he grabbed her arm.

  “She’s not dead.” He tensed as Savannah’s anxiety eased. “But she’s ailing.” He pulled her to him against her protestations, holding her close as she squirmed and kicked and cried. “Forgive me.”

  Pushing with all her might, she stepped back a pace, freeing
herself from her husband’s embrace. “I’ll only forgive you if you allow me to see her.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you’d make me beg to see my own daughter.”

  Jeremy’s voice emerged strangled. “Savannah, you and our babe could die if you catch her illness. I can’t risk you. It’s why you’ve been cooped up here in your father’s house for days. Weeks. We agreed to minimize the risk to you and our babe.”

  Shaking her head, she stiffened her shoulders. “This is a risk I have to take. I’m her mother.” They shared an anguished look. “Will you travel there with me?”

  Jeremy’s gaze was wild. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

  She raised a hand to his cheek. “I’m asking that you allow me to live my life as I need. I must see her, hold her, soothe her as I can. Please don’t deny me that.”

  Jeremy pulled Savannah against him, holding her tight as he fought a sob. “Perhaps your father would like to travel with us,” he said, when he released her, scrubbing at his cheeks. “We should travel in an automobile. I don’t want you exposed to public transportation.”

  She nodded mutely as he left the room. Soon she was eased into a car, and they rushed to Aidan and Delia’s mansion a short distance away in the Back Bay. She heaved herself from the car and pushed on the heavy wooden front door, refusing to wait for the butler. She moved with as much speed as possible, meeting Aidan’s worried gaze as he walked down the stairs.

  “Show me to her,” she demanded, her voice ringing out with the authority of one who had been wronged.

  As they approached a room, Aidan’s pace slowed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and waited until she met his gaze. “She struggles, Savannah.” He waited for her to nod and then handed her a mask.

  The door creaked open, and she crept inside, sniffing at the smell of camphor and illness that pervaded the room. She battled tears as she saw her daughter lying in the middle of a double bed, her cheeks reddened and forehead sweat-streaked. After sitting on a chair beside the bed, she gripped Melinda’s hand. “Fight, my darling girl. Fight,” she whispered. “Your mother is here.”

  Melinda gave no evidence of recognition that her mother was present. Melinda continued to gasp for breath, her body shaking subtly from the fever. Savannah swiped a cloth over her forehead and looked around for something useful to do to aid her.

  Delia entered the room, closing the door behind her. “Oh, Savannah,” she whispered. “We are doing the best we can.”

  “Would it be better for her at a hospital?” Savannah croaked out through a tear-thickened throat.

  Delia ran a hand along the bedspread beside Melinda. “We’ve had the doctor in numerous times. He told us the hospitals are overrun with those suffering from the influenza and that she would have a better … better …” Delia stalled.

  “Better chance to survive,” Savannah whispered.

  “Yes, if she stayed here.” Delia met Savannah’s anguished, accusatory gaze. “I wanted to inform you from the first instant that we suspected she was ill. Aidan wouldn’t go against Jeremy’s wishes. I’m sorry, Savannah.”

  A tear trickled down Savannah’s cheek as she watched Melinda battle for breath. “She’s my daughter. I should be with her, caring for her.”

  Delia made a conciliatory noise. “I understand how you feel, as I’d react the same way if Zylphia were ill. However, you are expecting a child soon. Jeremy is already fearful of the birth.”

  Savannah glared at Delia. “In all of this, do any of you consider how I am doing? How I feel? All I hear about is how worried you are about Jeremy and his concern for me. What about how afraid I am? For me and now for Melinda?” She flushed at her outburst and focused on her daughter, wiping away sweat from her brow with a cloth from a side table. She made soothing noises when Melinda stirred, and then Savannah sighed with relief as Melinda appeared to calm.

  “You’re right, Savannah. I know it has appeared we were only concerned about Jeremy. However, you will discover that’s not true. Aidan telegrammed Lucas, and he will arrive tonight.”

  Savannah’s composure cracked further. “Lucas is coming?”

  “Yes. We thought it imperative he come to be with you.” She patted Savannah on her shoulder. “Genevieve is to remain in Montana with baby Lizzie. From what I learned, she will have the support of Patrick and Fiona.”

  Savannah gripped her daughter’s hand and battled a sob. “If Lucas is coming, you fear the worst.” She met Delia’s somber gaze and buried her face in the bedding. “I can’t lose her! I can’t.”

  Jeremy slipped into the room and stood behind Delia. Savannah raised anguished eyes to Jeremy. “Don’t ask me to return to my father’s. Please, don’t keep me away from her. Not now.”

  “Shh, … love, it’s not good for you or the baby,” he soothed, kissing her forehead and using a handkerchief to rub at her tears. “We’ll stay here, as will your father. We’ll be right by Melinda. However, I need you to get some rest. For your sake and mine.” He helped her to her feet and watched as she bent to whisper her love into Melinda’s ear.

  She followed Jeremy into a room two doors down the hallway and eased onto the bed. She moved like a rag doll, allowing him to undress her. When he pushed on her shoulders gently and tucked her into bed, she latched onto his hand, tugging him down with her. “Stay with me. For a little while.”

  He curled around her, placing a protective arm over her belly. He sighed with pleasure when the baby kicked against his hand. “Hello, little love,” he crooned, leaning over to kiss her belly. He stilled when his actions caused her to sob. “Savannah?” he crawled over her so he faced her and brushed her loosened hair off her face. “What is it?”

  “How could you?” she whispered in a broken voice. “How could you keep me from Melly?”

  He clasped her head between his hands and held her tightly to meet his gaze. “You are my life. I won’t survive without you,” he rasped. “I can’t lose you, Savannah.”

  “But Melly,” she whispered.

  He nodded, tears leaking out. “Our beloved Melly,” he said, his voice cracking on beloved. “I’ve been with her almost every moment. She knows how much we love her.” He buried his face in his wife’s shoulder. “I can bear almost anything but losing you or our baby or Melly.”

  “What will we do?” she whispered as she clutched him to her, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

  “She’s young. She’ll survive. The influenza doesn’t kill the young,” he said with forced confidence. “You know they make up sensational stories in the paper.”

  “Hold me, Jeremy,” she whispered.

  He pulled her tight. “Do you forgive me for trying to protect you?”

  “Yes,” she breathed into his ear. “But I won’t forgive you if you become ill. For I won’t survive without you either.” He tugged her closer, his long arms reaching around to encircle her and cocoon her as they attempted to soothe each other.

  A few hours later an urgent rapping on their door woke them. A haggard Delia poked her head in the room. “Come. Now,” she barked before spinning out of the doorway.

  Her harsh command galvanized Savannah and Jeremy. He leaped from the bed and pulled Savannah up. She rubbed at her belly as she threw on her dress, and they donned masks before they reentered Melinda’s room. Rather than the darkened sick room, barely lit for the overnight hours, the room was as bright as midday. Aidan and her father were at the foot of the bed, while Delia was on the other side of the bed.

  Savannah rushed to her daughter’s side and sat on the empty chair by her bedside. Melinda lay on the bed, tugging at the sheet, arching her back, holding her chest as though attempting to force air into her lungs. Dark spots had appeared on her cheeks. Each subsequent breath was more labored than the last.

  “Fight, Melly,” Savannah urged. “Fight, my darling daughter. I love you so much.” She clutched her hand, squeezing it as she watched her daughter struggle to take a breath.

  As each breath
was more labored than the last, the skin on her neck and face took on a slight blue tinge. Savannah stilled when she noticed the subtle change and reached forward to stroke Melinda’s cheek. “No, Melly. No!”

  As Melinda’s chest stopped its laborious rising and falling, and the last air left her lips on a long hiss, Savannah shrieked. She shook off Jeremy’s hands on her shoulders and ran her fingers over Melinda’s chest, pushing on her chest as though to restart her breathing. “Try,” she sobbed. “Try.”

  “Savannah,” Jeremy whispered, wrapping an arm around her upper chest and hefting her away from their daughter. “She’s gone. Our Melly is gone.”

  “No!” She screamed as she kicked and fought him. “No,” she cried again as Jeremy toppled to the floor with her. She keened and wailed, lost to her grief. His gentle caresses went unacknowledged. Only when she had cried herself to a near stupor did she allow Jeremy to coax her to stand and to move from the room.

  * * *

  Parthena sat in a chair, her head laying on the bed next to Morgan’s hip, slowly coming awake. Her hand was entwined with his, and she blinked a few times as she attempted to recognize her surroundings. Her head jerked up when she remembered she was at Morgan’s side. Her mask had slipped off in the night, and she rubbed at her face as she ran an assessing gaze over her husband before she righted it. Her frantic heartbeat calmed when she saw his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

  She raised his hand and kissed it. “Come back to me, my love. Fight for us,” she whispered. She lay her head down again as fatigue overwhelmed her. When the fingers she gripped gave her a small squeeze, she gasped.

  “Come lie next to me, Hennie,” he croaked out.

  “Morgan!” She crawled up the bed to perch on her knees next to his side and to clasp his whiskered face between her hands. He opened weary eyes to her and attempted a smile. Reaching for a glass half-filled with water on the side table, she scooted an arm around his shoulders and eased him to a sitting position.