Page 113 of The Forsaken
“You know I do, but I’m frightened, Guy. Do you know anyone who’s been granted an annulment?”
Guy looked at her for a moment, considering the question. “No, I don’t.”
“Guy, the Church will not release me from my vows, even if we publicly confess that the child I carry is not my husband’s. We will be disgraced, humiliated, and punished for our misdeeds. I fear for our child. He’ll be branded a bastard, a child of sin. And what of Hugh? He might not be the husband of my heart, but he is my husband before the law. Does your brother deserve to be dishonored before everyone he knows?”
“Hugh’s not been a good husband to you,” Guy had snapped.
“He’s been no worse than most. Do you believe that every marriage in Christendom is based on love and mutual respect?”
“Kate, you asked me to wait until the Feast of Ascension, and that is what I have done. Tonight, I will confront Hugh, unless you tell me not to, but if you do, know that I will leave and never return. The choice is yours. I won’t force you, but neither will I live my life in secret, always skulking in the shadows and hiding from the truth.”
The answer had sprung to her lips, urgent and filled with longing. “Don’t go,” she had whispered. “Please, don’t go. I can’t go on without you.”
Drawing her close, he had pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll never leave you, Kate, not even if you ask me to.”
“We must get back before anyone misses us,” Kate had said, pulling away from Guy. “I just heard Joan outside.”
“After tonight we won’t have to hide ever again. Everyone will know.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Kate had thought as she’d watched Guy slip out of the chapel and walk away.
SEVENTY-ONE
Kate raised herself on her elbow and reached for the cup of ale someone had thoughtfully left by her bed. The slight movement brought on a new bout of nausea, but the ale helped settle her stomach. It was cool and bitter, more so than usual, but she hardly noticed. She was thirsty, so she drained the cup and lay back down, breathing deeply until the wave of sickness began to ebb. Perhaps it was the potency of the drink, but Kate felt pleasantly detached, her mind at peace for the first time in weeks. She began to drift, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness as her body relaxed into the mattress. Perhaps she’d sleep for a while.
She wasn’t frightened at first. The twitches in her belly seemed insignificant, like the rumbling of distant thunder, and the shortness of breath and nausea had been her constant companions for several weeks. It wasn’t until that first sharp pain that she began to worry, wondering if something might be truly wrong. She tried to sit up, desperate to pull apart the bed hangings and allow some light into the dim confines of the bed, but another pain sliced through her, forcing her back down and pinning her to the mattress. She rolled onto her side and brought her knees up to her chest, praying for the pain to stop, but it didn’t. Waves of nausea and dizziness rolled over her as the spasms in her womb intensified, no longer rumbles of thunder, but sharp, jagged bolts of lightning. Her extremities began to go numb, as her vision blurred and her hearing faded out. She tried to call for help, but her cry was like the whimper of a newborn kitten.
“Dear God, please, no,” she prayed as hot, sticky blood began to flow between her legs, her womb mercilessly forcing the baby out. Somewhere deep inside she’d known that this could never be. She owed God a debt and He’d come to collect, with interest. He wouldn’t allow a sinner like her to taste such joy. God was vengeful, and He was cruel, and in her time of need He had forsaken her.
She began to tremble violently as her breath came in short gasps, no longer seeing the darkness of her curtained world. Whatshe saw were the faces of those she’d loved, floating before her like wispy clouds before the moon.
As she lay in a pool of her own blood, and life drained from her battered body, she had one final thought:
I’ve been murdered.
SEVENTY-TWO
SEPTEMBER 2014
London, England
Quinn dropped the rosary. The pain she’d experienced in her vision didn’t fade away, but intensified, forcing her to curl up on the bed and hug her knees. Her womb was contracting, the skin growing taut with every spasm. Quinn tried to think calmly as she searched for a more comfortable position. She’d experienced mild Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off since the second trimester, but Dr. Malik had assured her this was perfectly normal and not a prelude to a miscarriage. The contractions were more uncomfortable than painful, and usually went away after about a half hour. This pain was more intense, but she was also closer to her due date, so perhaps this was all par for the course.
Quinn climbed out of bed, hoping she might walk off the pain. She walked from one end of the bedroom to the other, kneading her lower back with her fists. After a few minutes, the contractions receded, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The baby wasn’t due for another three weeks, so this was definitely too soon. Quinn returned to bed and rolled onto her side, the only position she could sleep in since lying on her back made it difficult to breathe, and hugged her pillow. She was wide awake, her mind still on Kate, her heart breaking for the other woman and the baby that would never be. Quinn had known Kate would never carry the baby to term, since Colin had seen no evidence of a birth in Kate’s skeletal remains, but Kate’s death still shocked and devastated her.
Quinn couldn’t risk picking up the rosary again, not after what’d just happened, and wasn’t even sure there was anything more to see. Kate’s story was finished, at least from her perspective. In her last moments, Kate had believed she’d been murdered, but there was no proof that anyone wished her harm. Perhaps the severe illness she’d been experiencing for months hadbeen hyperemesis gravidarum, a form of extreme morning sickness that affected a small percentage of expectant mothers, but it wasn’t fatal and usually subsided as soon as the child was born. Or perhaps Kate’s body hadn’t been able to withstand the extreme stress of the situation. In the twenty-first century, it was simple enough to end a marriage and find happiness with someone else, but in Kate’s time, divorce had been unheard of and annulment had been granted rarely and only after lengthy deliberation and examination of the situation.
It wasn’t until Henry VIII rid himself of Catherine of Aragon that the possibility of ending an unsatisfying marriage had become a reality, and even then, only for those few who were willing to go to war with the Church and risk eternal damnation. Kate had had every reason to be terrified, and reluctant to risk her child’s future for an outcome that was in no way guaranteed. If the annulment was denied, which it most likely would be; at best, she might have been disgraced and locked away by Hugh for the rest of her days, or at worst, she might have been whipped through the streets as a harlot and an adulteress, or even put to death if she were accused of bewitching her brother-in-law. Guy’s love and desire to be with Kate had blinded him to reality and given him false hope. Even if he had succeeded in bending Bishop Bridewell to his will, the bishop would not have had the power to singlehandedly dissolve the marriage, so a happy ending would most likely never have been in the cards.
Pain tore through Quinn’s belly, leaving her breathless and driving Kate’s plight from her mind. This was the here and now, and something was wrong. She sat bolt upright, wrapped her arms about her middle, and rocked back and forth to ease her suffering. The next pain came right on the heels of the first one and was just as sharp, almost as if it were inflicted by a knife. These were not Braxton Hicks contractions; this was something very different. Quinn considered walking again when the next stab sliced through her womb. She cried out as something sticky and hot began to trickle between her legs.
“Oh, dear God, please, no!” she cried, unwittingly echoing Kate’s plea. “Gabe!” Quinn screamed, her voice hoarse with desperation.
Gabe was at her side within seconds, his eyes wide with fear. “What is it?”
“I need to go to the hospital. Something’s wrong.”
“Should I ring for an ambulance?”
