“I’ll do what I can for them, you know that, Dalton,” Adrian said quietly, patting his friend on the shoulder, "but you saw the beam that fell on her."
“We'll both do our best. I delivered Saoirse with my own two hands, and I wish to do the same for my own child.”
“Perhaps it’s not such a good idea. You’re very upset, your hands are burnt, and you look exhausted, both mentally and physically.”
“I’ve found her at last, and I’m never ever going to let her out of my sight again,” Dalton vowed vehemently. "Never."
“I understand, Dalton. I know all about your past history now. Emer just confided in me the main points. I’m sorry to sound cruel, but how could you ever have been so stupid as to ever let her go?”
Dalton heaved a ragged sigh. “My father tricked me at every turn. I loved him, and he betrayed me and her. He told me she was dead. Thank God I found her before I married that cow Madeleine Lyndon, and ruined my life forever.”
“Yes, indeed, we all have much to be thankful for,” Adrian said quietly, but refrained from telling him what he had told Emer about Madeleine that night for fear of upsetting Dalton even further in the state he was already in.
Once they had arrived at Adrian’s small house in the centre of Quebec, Dalton carried her up to a spare bedroom the servant showed him, while Adrian dispatched messages to the bishop and Myrtle Chandler to inform them about the fire, and ask for their help in ensuring that everything was taken care of while they would be otherwise occupied with Emer having her baby and then convalescing afterwards.
Dalton laid her on the clean sheets, and began to undo Emer’s clothing, his fingers shaking tremulously when he saw her water break.
“You’re going to be all right, my love. I’m here,” he murmured, kissing her snow-white brow lovingly.
Emer, unconscious for most of the labour, was blissfully unaware of the pain, until near the end, when Dalton administered some smelling salts, tapped her on the cheeks to wake her, and then said, “Come on, Emer, the baby’s coming now, but we need you to push.”
“Baby?" she muttered drowsily.
"Aye, our baby is just about to arrive. I need you to push, my love."
"What happened? How long have I been here?” Emer murmured, feeling a curious numbness in the lower part of her body which she attributed to the labour.
“There was a fire at the orphanage, remember, darling? You had to escape through the floorboards and under the porch, and something fell on you."
"When, where am I?"
"You're at my house," Adrian said with a smile. "The baby is nearly here, so we need to you push, dear girl."
"How long have I been here like this?" she asked, grimacing at the dull ache in her side and back.
"Nearly two days, my love. Come on, focus now, we need your help,” Dalton urged. "We need to get this baby out now."
“What baby? I don’t feel anything,” she whispered weakly.
Adrian looked at Dalton, and shook his head before grasping the forceps.
"All right, Emer, push, push, darling, come on, that's it!"
"I've got it, Dalton," Adrian reassured him with evident relief.
Emer felt a very dull sensation between her legs, and then all of a sudden, she saw Dalton holding the child upside down by the ankles. He gave it a resounding whack on the bottom to get it to cry, and then wiped it down with a clean cloth.
Adrian cut the cord and tied it off, and Dalton said proudly, “Look, it’s a boy! Emer, we have a son! He’s beautiful!”
Emer gazed in amazement at the miniature version of Dalton that was put into her arms. Then she kissed his tiny hand and Dalton’s lips as he bent to kiss them both.
“Do you want to name him, Dalton?” Emer asked quietly.
“No, no, I think you should have first choice of name,” Dalton insisted.
“Can we call him William, then, after my father?”
“I was going to say the same myself.” Dalton smiled, and kissed her again.
“I love you, Dalton,” Emer sighed, as tears of joy glimmered in her aqua eyes.
“I love you, Emer, always. Try to rest now,” Dalton soothed, stroking back her tumbled burgundy hair lovingly, while his other hand grasped his son’s tiny fingers.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Emer awakened on a bright morning toward the end of May, she was surrounded by a sea of concerned faces. She saw that they had placed her in a plainly furnished guest room at Adrian’s house. The Bishop was there, along with Myrtle and Adrian.
“Well, my dear you gave us all a terrible fright. I’m glad to see you’ve come back to us.” The Bishop smiled down at her warmly.
“The children, where are they?” Emer whispered, her throat sore from the smoke she had inhaled.
“Joe is looking after the family out at the mansion, and Dalton has your son William safe in the next room,” Myrtle informed her.
“What about the other children at the orphanage? Where are we going to put them all?” Emer worried.
She tried to move her dull-feeling limbs to sit up.
“Easy, Emer, rest yourself. Don’t try to move. There's nothing you need to worry about,” the Bishop hastened to reassure her, pressing her back on the pillow by her shoulder.
“Many of the families here in Quebec heard about the fire, and offered their help. They've agreed to take most of them in until we can get the orphanage started up again. And who knows, perhaps they will like them so much, they will decide to keep them. The eldest ones have mostly remained behind, and will help with the farming chores and businesses until we can rebuild.”
Adrian said, “Do you think we will be able to start again? We’ve lost everything!”
“Not quite everything. The children are all still alive thanks to Emer, and the workshops are still standing. We will rebuild. All will come in the fullness of time, my son,” the Bishop said with a smile.
He patted Emer on the head, said a prayer over her, and then took his leave.
Emer looked up a short time later as Dalton popped his head around the door with their infant son cradled in his arms.
She felt her heart surge at the sight of the two of them together, and would have beckoned him to come in, but Myrtle said urgently, “Emer, I know you're not well yet, but there is a matter that requires immediate attention. Is it possible to be alone with you for a moment?”
“I want to see Dalton and the baby, but you look worried.” Emer smiled weakly. “Dalton would you mind terribly if Myrtle spoke to me for a minute alone?”
Dalton kissed her forehead, and murmured, “I don't mind. So long as you know that you and I are going to have a private conversation as soon as you're up to it.” He gently laid the slumbering infant down next to her on the bed.
Emer could see his eyes golden eyes glowing with what she felt certain could only be love for his son. "Thank you."
"Thank you. Now that I have you back and we share this beautiful boy in addition to everything else we've faced together, well, though the road has been hard for us both, thanks to you both, my happiness is complete."
"I'm glad."
"I just want you to feel the same."
She smiled up at him wanly, and shook her head. "Perhaps one day, but so much has happened and—"
"I understand. Rest now, and enjoy him while you talk to Myrtle." He strode towards the door, and she sadly watched him leave.
She glanced down at her son, a perfect miniature of his father that made her heart turn over.
Once the door was shut, she turned her gaze to her friend’s worried face. “Well, Myrtle, what on earth is so important that it can't wait for me to even talk to the father of my child?”
“I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news, but the authorities are investigating the fire," her friend said in a hurried whisper.
"Investigating?" Emer repeated blankly.
"If we can’t come up with a satisfactory explanation, you'll be blamed for negligence wi
th regard to the orphanage and all the children in your charge. Everyone could have been killed. If the wind had been blowing, the whole property, and even the farms nearby could have gone up like a bonfire.”
She stared at her friend as though she were speaking a foreign language. “What is it you’re trying to tell me, Myrtle?”
Her friend sighed heavily, then said, “It’s just that Adrian, Charlie and Sissy all saw her, and Mrs. Jenkins as well. That’s why I went looking and found these at the back of the house, along with three emptied oil lanterns, which Patrick swears he had just filled that morning.”
“Saw who? Found what?” Emer said in confusion.
Then she looked at the box of safety matches, and the distinctive beaded reticule she had admired so much when Madeleine had first left it behind, slightly scorched, but still intact.
A quick perusal of its contents, a cheque book, and several monogrammed handkerchiefs and fan with the initials ‘M.A.L’ left her in no doubt of the owner’s identity.
Emer gasped. If she hadn’t already been laying down, she probably would have fainted.
“It’s unthinkable,” she finally managed to whisper. “Could she hate me so much? And those poor children…”
“That’s not the point," Myrtle said with a shake of her head. "The point is she should be made to pay. It’s only because Dalton is still officially affianced to her that I have said nothing to the constables, but they're going to have to know soon. Otherwise, you might be prosecuted, and you've done nothing wrong.”
“You will say nothing to anyone about what you all know at the minute, will you? I want you to send a letter to the lady in question immediately, requesting the pleasure of a visit. If the authorities press you, you can say you thought Adrian saw a drunken vagrant wandering around, though God forgive me for telling the lie,” Emer said as she crossed herself.
“All right, Emer, I shall do it for your sake, but I think the woman should get what she deserves. She's a monster! Those poor babes. What on earth could have possessed her?"
"Envy, fear, who knows."
"But to harm innocent children because she hates you? It's monstrous."
"I know, I know. At the same time, though, if Dalton wants to marry her—"
"He loves you, Emer. Anyone can see that."
"He's had a strange way of showing it."
"And if you ask me, it's about time you sorted things out with hime once and for all. And high time that you stopped protecting Dalton from the harsh unpleasantries of life. Just tell him the truth about Madeleine Lyndon and his father. Or, if you don’t want to, because you fear he will blame you, then let Adrian and I tell him,” Myrtle insisted.
“There was no harm done apart from the house being gone and we can rebuild that. Say nothing, Myrtle, either of you.”
"No harm? You could all have been killed!" her friend exploded.
"But we weren't!"
"And you're injured, and the baby could have died—"
"We survived, all of us. Please control yourself." Emer gave her brown-eyed friend a pointed look. "You will say nothing for the present, do you hear me?"
Myrtle stuck out her chin mutinously. “All right, I will keep what I know to myself for a little while longer. But if either of them tries to harm you again, I'm telling the constables and Dalton everything I know, whether you like it or not,” Myrtle threatened as she flung the door wide, and stormed out to carry Emer’s message to Madeleine Lyndon.
Dalton’s startled expression at Myrtle’s assertion that she would tell him everything caused Emer to groan, and turn her head away.
“I’m sorry, Emer, I didn’t want to eavesdrop, only I thought you might need some of his things, and I was wondering if you wanted to have a try at feeding him yourself?” Dalton asked quietly.
She could see him looking at her curiously, but recognising that she wasn’t yet ready to confide in him regarding any of her secrets, he didn't ask her to clarify Myrtle's words.
“I’ll try, but perhaps I won’t have enough milk,” Emer worried, unbuttoning the front of her nightdress.
It was then that Emer got the worst shock of the day, for when she moved to sit up, she suddenly realised that she had no sensation in the lower half of her body.
“My legs, I can’t feel my legs!” Emer exclaimed, wide-eyed with fear, as she threw back the covers and desperately tried to wiggle her toes.
“Adrian! Adrian!” Dalton shouted, as he gathered up the baby to put it safely back in the wheeled bassinet he had brought, and then wrapped his arms around Emer, trying to subdue her hysterical weeping.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Adrian asked as he raced into the room.
“She can’t feel her legs, move her toes or anything,” Dalton informed the other doctor as Emer continued to whimper.
The mild-mannered doctor nodded. “I was afraid of that when we awakened her during the last moment of labour. It was apparent to me then that she had no sensation in her lower limbs. She couldn’t even feel the baby coming."
"What on earth are you saying?" Dalton demanded.
"I'm sorry, Dalton, I should have said something at the time, but you’d both been through so much, and in any case, Emer needed her rest. She didn’t need to be fretted about something that I hoped would reverse itself in time.”
“You knew? How?”
“That beam that came crashing down on her hit her hard. She is lucky she wasn’t killed, but there was a great deal of swelling on the spine afterwards. I had no way of knowing how much internal damage has been done. I kept her sedated for the past three days, hoping Emer would get a chance to lie still and recover, but it seems now I may have been overly optimistic,” Adrian sighed. “Am I going to be like this forever?” she wept.
“I won’t lie to you, Emer. I have no way of knowing. It could be a few weeks, or months before you recover any feeling, or it may be never. But you need to rest, and must take a positive attitude. You have a wonderful son, and you and Dalton have found each other again. You're lucky to be alive, and all the children need you. Now, here, let's turn you over to have a look at you, and then perhaps I might get a better idea of what we're up against.”
Dalton and Adrian examined Emer with meticulous care, and Adrian suggested various cures for paralysis, including hot baths, seaweed treatments and massage of the back and legs, as well as certain medicines for reducing the swelling.
“But we can’t do anything until we're certain our interference might not be doing more harm than good to the traumatised area,” Adrian stated firmly.
“So in the meantime, I advise complete rest apart from seeing the baby and Dalton, and any other visitors you think you might be up to. I also wish to keep you sedated so that you don’t lay awake at night fretting. Do you agree with my diagnosis, Dr. Randall?”
“Er, yes, Dr. Lovell, I do. Come on, now, sweetheart, let’s see if we can’t give baby some supper, and then you can have something to eat as well.”
“How can you talk about food at a time like this?” Emer snapped, cuffing the tears from her cheeks.
“Doctor’s orders. You are to keep up your strength,” Adrian retorted.
Dalton shot him a grateful look.
“I’m going to send to the orphanage for Sissy to come here to look after you and the baby, and for your family to come and visit,” Adrian said, pouring out some water and dissolving a powder into it, before passing the glass to her.
“I don’t want anyone to see me like this!” Emer insisted.
“All right, we will leave the visit for a few days, but I shall send for Sissy all the same,” Adrian replied.
After waiting until she had drunk every drop of the medicine, he told them he would see them later, and took his leave.
Emer sat staring at the closed door, thunderstruck at what had befallen her.
Dalton said nothing, but gently opened the front of Emer’s nightdress, and rested the baby’s cheek against her soft flesh.
Emer let out an exclamation of delighted surprise as the baby began to greedily feed, smacking its lips with unalloyed pleasure.
“Lucky little fellow,” Dalton said with a grin, his eyes gazing into Emer’s as though he were about to look into her very soul.
“At least I can feel that,” Emer said softly as they watched the suckling infant in fascination.
“I warn you, though, he has an insatiable appetite, just like his father,” Dalton teased.
The Hungry Heart Fulfilled (The Hunger of the Heart Series Book 3) Page 9
