Alice gasped. “Did he recover his vision?”
“Once the swelling went down, his vision gradually returned, but he was never the same afterward. Suffered with terrible headaches and double vision for years after the accident.”
“And now?” Alice asked.
“They still trouble him, but not as frequently. I’m glad Dr. Rosings is due to look in today,” Hannah said. “I’m worried about you.”
Alice felt the prickle of tears, deeply touched by Hannah’s concern. If she had to rely on the kindness of strangers, she was glad it was the Wilders who’d found her and not someone who’d see her as nothing more than a burden, another mouth to feed. Derek had kept his distance since the day of the funeral, but Hannah, Ben, and Josh treated her with understanding and kindness. They would help her get well, if only by the sheer force of their will, but she was worried. What if she had sustained permanent brain damage, the full extent not yet apparent?
Alice spent the morning in a fog of fear and doubt. After feeding the chickens, she came back into the house, ready to help Hannah prepare the midday meal, but kept her head down, reluctant to engage in conversation, her anxiety getting the better of her. She wanted Dr. Rosings to say she was well and reassure her that her memories would return in time, but how could he promise such a thing? He was a country doctor, used to treating the usual range of ailments and farm-related accidents. This was beyond the scope of his experience; he’d said so himself.
“Peregrine,” Alice whispered under her breath when Hannah stepped out to use the privy. Once again, the name brought forth an instant reaction. Fear, loneliness, but also a surprising sense of relief. How was it possible to experience such conflicting emotions?
Alice bent her head over the mindless task of peeling potatoes. “Peregrine,” she said again, louder. The emotions the name invoked sparked a tiny flame of hope, a light that dispelled some of the impenetrable darkness caused by her lack of memories to rely on. Unpleasant memories were better than none, she decided.
“Did you say something?” Hannah asked as she walked through the door. “It sounded like peregrine.”
“A megrim,” Alice said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind that sounded somewhat similar.
“Go have a lie-down,” Hannah said. “You look pale. I’ll finish here.”
A part of Alice wanted to assure Hannah that she was all right, but the opportunity to escape her watchful gaze was too tempting to resist. She climbed up to her attic bedroom and shut the door, then closed the shutters, plunging the room into near darkness. Alice lay on the bed and closed her eyes, focusing all her inner energy on that one word.
“Peregrine,” she mouthed into the silence of the room. “Peregrine.” But try as she might, she couldn’t bring forth an image of the ship or recall any details of her voyage.
By the time Dr. Rosings knocked on the door, she was ready to take a break from her self-imposed exile. She would tell him about the feelings the name stirred in her and see what he thought.
Entering the room, Dr. Rosings placed his medical bag on the chest of drawers and opened the shutters before sitting down on the side of the bed. Alice squinted as gray light filtered into the attic, making her eyes water after several hours of darkness.
“Hannah tells me you haven’t been well,” Dr. Rosings said as he studied her. “Is there no improvement?”
“Not really,” Alice admitted.
“Tell me exactly what you’re experiencing,” the doctor invited, his kindly face serious.
“My head still hurts, especially in the mornings. As soon as I turn my head or try to sit up, I feel bilious. The nausea doesn’t abate until I vomit, and then I feel better, and hungrier. I’m achy and tired, and there are pains in my stomach,” Alice complained.
“What kind of pains? Is it stomach gripes? Do you need to go to the privy?”
“No. It comes and goes, and sometimes it’s quite sharp, but only for a moment or so, and at other times, it’s a pulling sort of pain.”
“Pulling?”
“Stretching,” Alice amended.
“I see,” Dr. Rosings said. “I’m going to have to examine you again, Alice. Can you sit up for me?”
“Of course.”
Dr. Rosings examined her head by pressing lightly on the spot at the back of her skull, then parted the hair to get a closer look at the skin.
“The swelling has gone down, and the bruise is not as livid. Lie down, please.”
He listened to her chest, took her pulse, then palpated her belly, his expression thoughtful as he exerted gentle pressure. “Do your breasts feel swollen or tender?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“And do you feel the need to relieve yourself often?”
“Yes.”
“Have you had your courses since the shipwreck?”
“No,” Alice replied. “Not yet. What does any of this have to do with my head?”
“Nothing,” Dr. Rosings replied. “Alice, I believe you’re with child,” he said, sending her tiny, confusing world crashing down around her.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“It’s difficult to say with any certainty since you can’t recall when you last had your courses, but the symptoms fit. Your womb is enlarged, your breasts are sore, you experience morning sickness followed by hunger, and you make water often. And the headaches can also be related to the pregnancy.”
“Is there any way to know for certain?” Alice asked. A pregnancy was sure to change a woman’s life forever, be it her first or her tenth, but for a woman who had no recollection of her life before a week ago, it was catastrophic. Alice was trembling with agitation, her hands ice cold as she reached out to Dr. Rosings. “Please, I must know for sure. There must be a way to tell.”
Dr. Rosings’ brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve never used this method; it’s quite old, goes back to ancient Egypt, if you can believe that, but I read about it when I studied medicine. And it’s said to be quite accurate.”
“How does it work?” Alice muttered. She couldn’t begin to imagine how they’d tested for pregnancy in ancient times and wondered if some sort of sacrifice might be required, or bloodletting at the very least.
“It’s simple, really. Take a small amount of wheat and barley seeds and put them in a glass jar. Urinate on them several times over the next two days and leave the jar in a spot that’s exposed to sunlight. Then wait for something to happen. If the seeds begin to sprout, you are pregnant.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“I don’t want anyone to know,” Alice said.
“I understand,” Dr. Rosings said. “You have much to contend with just now, and you need time to come to terms with this new development.”
“You said the swelling has gone down. Does this mean I’ll start to remember?” Alice asked, her gaze searching his for any kind of confirmation.
Dr. Rosings shook his head. “I’d like to think so, but I can’t make any promises. When dealing with the brain…” He lifted his hands in a universal gesture of uncertainty. “We must wait and see. But you mustn’t lose hope. This observation has no scientific merit, but I’ve noticed that patients who are determined to get better usually do, while the ones who lose hope tend to deteriorate.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Alice asked. She was desperate to get better, but determination didn’t seem enough. She had to act, to do something to extricate herself from the deadlock she found herself in.
“I would think that seeing or hearing something from your past might jolt your memory and accelerate the recovery process, but since we don’t know anything about your past, we can’t facilitate that type of experiment. Perhaps some random phrase or image will trigger a memory,” Dr. Rosings suggested. “Don’t give up hope, my dear. Not ever.”
Alice nodded, grateful to the man for his support and for the fact that his supposition fit in with what she’d experienced upon hearing the name of t
he ship
“And let me know how that other thing turns out,” he said quietly as Hannah peeked into the room.
“How’s the patient?” she asked, walking in once she saw that the consultation was over.
“Getting stronger every day,” Dr. Rosings said. “As long as Alice remains calm and gets plenty of rest, I have hope for a full recovery.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Alice murmured. Calm. How was it possible to remain calm in view of what he’d told her?
“Dinner is ready,” Hannah announced. “Come downstairs. Dr. Rosings, would you care to dine with us?”
“Thank you, Mistress Wilder, but I still have several patients to see. I’ll be home in time for supper, if I’m lucky,” Dr. Rosings grumbled.
“But you must eat,” Hannah protested. “How about I give you a nice buttered corn muffin to take with you? I made a fresh batch only this morning.”
“I wouldn’t say no to one of your muffins,” Dr. Rosings replied, grinning. “They’re a treat.”
Dr. Rosings followed Hannah downstairs, leaving Alice blessedly alone. She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned forward, her head almost touching her knees. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that she might be with child hadn’t been one of them. The possibility made her feel caught in a vortex of uncertainty and indecision. What was she to do now? How was she to go on?
“Alice, are you coming down?” Hannah called from below.
Alice forced herself to leave the sanctuary of her room and trudged downstairs, her stomach in knots. She’d have to wait for Hannah to leave the house so she could help herself to some wheat and barley seeds. And then, she’d have to live through several agonizing days before she’d know for certain, or as certain as some arcane Egyptian method could guarantee.
**
When Gabe came into the bedroom, having put the kids to sleep, Quinn was on her phone.
“What are you doing? I thought you were going to spend an hour with Alice,” Gabe said as he climbed into bed and lay down next to her.
“I did. And now I’m Googling Egyptian pregnancy tests,” Quinn replied, her gaze glued to the screen.
“What?”
“Ha!” Quinn cried. “I found it.”
“Found what, exactly? What does Egypt have to do with anything?”
“Dr. Rosings spoke of an ancient Egyptian way to check for pregnancy. And I’ve found a reference to it. It was called the wheat and barley test. Evidently, the ancient Egyptians realized that something happened to a woman’s urine once she became pregnant. Says here they even thought they could tell if the baby was a boy or a girl depending on which seeds began to sprout after being soaked in urine.”
“You’ve lost me,” Gabe said, trying to see over her arm as she scrolled through the article.
“It seems Alice was pregnant at the time of the shipwreck,” Quinn announced, gratified by Gabe’s astonishment.
“Was she? That must have come as a shock.”
“You bet. Can you imagine not being able to remember something like that?” Quinn exclaimed, setting the phone on her bedside table.
“Maybe she hadn’t known,” Gabe suggested.
“Maybe not. Oh, that poor girl,” Quinn said, dismayed. “It’s earth-shattering enough to find out you’re pregnant in the here and now. Imagine what it was like in the eighteenth century, especially if you had no idea whose baby you were carrying.”
“Surely she’ll remember,” Gabe said.
“I hope so, for her sake,” Quinn replied, and turned out the light.
Chapter 18
March 2018
London
When Katya and Vanessa arrived the following afternoon, the two women took the kids out into the garden, where Gabe had set up a swing and a slide, and let them play while they watched them over a cup of tea and chocolate biscuits. Katya looked stylish as ever, but lines of fatigue were etched into her lovely features, and her hair was scraped into a bun. She’d lost weight, and her jeans hung loosely around her long legs. She reached for a biscuit and bit into it gingerly.
“I know Rhys told you about the baby,” Katya said as she continued to nibble. “He’s so excited, he just can’t help himself,” she added affectionately.
“Congratulations. How are you feeling?” Quinn asked, glad the cat was out of the bag and she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t know about the pregnancy.
“The morning sickness has been awful,” Katya said. “I never felt this sick with Vannie. It’s as if my insides are trying to turn themselves out. I’ve been living on tea and dry toast for weeks. Rhys keeps trying to tempt me with all kinds of goodies, but just the thought of eating them makes me ill.”
“He’s worried about you,” Quinn said.
“I know. He’s a dear man,” Katya said with a tired smile. “But women have been having babies since the beginning of time. I know this is temporary, and then I’ll have a beautiful child to love. I just have to get through the next couple of weeks.”
“How far along are you?”
“Nearly twelve weeks,” Katya said. “I don’t have to tell you, Rhys is thrilled. He’d have a dozen children if he could. He dotes on Vannie. The kid is spoiled rotten.”
“He’s waited a long time for this, but I’ve never seen him happier,” Quinn said. She didn’t think Rhys would ever forget the baby he’d lost with his previous partner, but Vanessa had filled the gaping void, bringing out Rhys’s paternal side.
“I’m happy too. It’s as if we were made for each other,” Katya said dreamily. Her expression suddenly changed. “Vanessa, I saw that!” Katya exclaimed, shaking her head in exasperation. “Say sorry to Mia for pushing her off the swing.”
Vanessa gave her mother a defiant look, but promptly mumbled, “Sorry, Mia.”
“I wonder what it will be like to juggle two kids. Vannie can be a handful.”
“So can Mia. She’s so different from Alex,” Quinn said. “He was such an easygoing toddler. I wasn’t prepared for this little hellion.”
“It’s because she’s a girl. Girls are so much more temperamental, I find. Speaking of which, how’s Emma?”
“She’s all right. Moody. She’s only going to be nine, but it’s like she’s already a teenager.”
“I think these days they go straight from being a toddler to becoming a tween. There’s nothing in between,” Katya joked. “Vannie is already giving me a hard time about clothes and my choice of playmates for her. She has very definite opinions about what and whom she likes.”
“That’s as it should be,” Quinn said. “They have their likes and dislikes, same as us.”
Katya took a sip of tea and turned to face Quinn. “So, tell me about this skeleton. Was Dr. Scott able to learn much?”
“Well, the good news is that he wasn’t a victim of a recent crime. Colin dated him back to the mid-to late-eighteenth century, so he’s been sleeping beneath that tree for over two hundred years.”
“But was he murdered?” Katya asked, her gaze filled with apprehension.
“It’s hard to tell. The roots have done a lot of damage to the skeleton.”
“You must think me mad to worry about what happened to him. I mean, it’s your job to unearth secret burials, but I can’t bear the thought of someone being disposed of like that. It gives me nightmares.”
“I don’t think you’re mad,” Quinn said. “Archeology might be my chosen profession, but I wouldn’t like to find someone’s remains in my garden. It’s disturbing, to say the least.” Quinn sighed and looked out over her peaceful garden, the silence disturbed only by the giggles of the children.
“There’s something profoundly cruel about denying someone a proper burial. It’s almost as if they’d tried to erase them from the annals of history. Sure, most people are only remembered for a time, and only by those who’d loved them in life, but their names live on, if only on their gravestones or in parish records and family legends. When someone is buried in secret, as this person
must have been, there’s no closure, no dignified end to their story.”
“Exactly,” Katya said. “Rhys thinks I’m being silly, but I’d like to give this person a proper burial. It would bring me peace. Is there any chance you could find out who he was?” Katya asked, smiling at Quinn in a manner that could only be described as guilty.
“He’s told you, hasn’t he?” Quinn asked, interpreting Katya’s look the only way she knew how. Less than a handful of people knew about Quinn’s psychic gift, and Quinn preferred to keep it that way. People still scoffed at preternatural ability and would brand her a fake or a kook if they knew her secret. Her professional rivals especially would question her every find, her every conclusion, and try to destroy her academic legacy, turning her into a laughingstock in the archeological community.
“Katya, it’s not common knowledge,” Quinn said, hoping Katya hadn’t shared the information with anyone else.
“Of course. I completely understand. I would never betray your confidence,” Katya swore, her hand on Quinn’s wrist. “But I do think it’s amazing, what you’re able to do. To give these people their identities back and to tell their stories.”
“It’s not as simple as you think,” Quinn replied, annoyed with Rhys for divulging her secret.
“Please, don’t be angry with him. I sort of badgered him into telling me. I just knew there was something he was keeping from me,” Katya said.
“I’m not angry,” Quinn said. “It’s just that I feel a responsibility to these people, a duty to learn their stories, and they rarely have a happy ending. It takes a toll, you know?”
“I can only imagine. I can see why you didn’t want to continue with the program, especially while you were pregnant. You need to guard your peace of mind while you’re carrying a child.”
“I’ll do everything I can to give your man a name,” Quinn said.
Katya gave her a sidelong glance. “You already know his name, don’t you?”
“I can hazard a guess as to who he was, but I won’t know for sure until I see his story to the end. Can you wait till then?”
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 8