Page 34 of Lover
“Felicity,” I boomed as I grew near, startling her. Her cheeks were already stained with tears. “Phone Dr. Hannigan!”
When she didn’t move, I spun her toward the direction of the parlor where the phone was located.
“Please,” I added with more kindness, to soften the rough way I’d just treated her.
She wordlessly set into a run.
“Callum! Come quickly!” Ms. Dillard’s cry of panic propelled me up the stairs two at a time, and I arrived at the top to find the housekeeper kneeling over my wife’s prone form. Millie was covered in sweat, trembling, a hand reflexively grasping her low belly.
I dropped to my knees, cradling her into my arms, her skin scorching to the touch.
“Callum, she’s been in the nursery,” Ms. Dillard said solemnly.
Looking up, I saw the nursery door standing open, moonlight streaming through yellowing curtains onto the bassinet.
“Oh, darling,” I murmured against Millie’s brow.
I carried her downstairs to my room where I placed her with utmost care onto the coverlet while Ms. Dillard left to fetch warm rags. Millie trembled and shivered, but remained unconscious of the world despite my attempts to wake her.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my apology withering in the silence like spent petals.
***
I knelt by the bed, taking Millie’s hand as she slept, pressing her cold fingers to my cheek to warm them as I watched her wan,pain-stricken face. Dr. Hannigan arrived swiftly and ended my agony by providing a rather mundane diagnosis. He suspected she’d contracted the same terrible stomach illness Felicity had recently endured but recommended against hospital care, worried it would do more harm than good. When I informed him about where she’d been, he could only guess that her subconscious took control in the presence of such a high fever, leading her to the tower.
“Some of the best and worst moments of her life here at Willowfield are there,” he postulated. “The draw to it must have been significant. With your permission, I’ll stay here at the house until she’s well again.”
I agreed, thankful, but cursed myself for forgetting to lock the door, for growing complacent in the daze of our blooming happiness. Millie stirred, her breath coming in short gasps. She whimpered. I hushed her, spoke words of comfort I wasn’t sure she could hear, running my knuckles along the hollow of her cheek until she stilled. She looked so frail and small, lying here like this, hand rarely leaving its protective place upon her abdomen.
A memory stirred, and I could almost hear her whispering to me in the dark, feel her curled under my arm, smelling of rosewater.
“Callum,” she said, “should we have children?”
The question took me by surprise. We’d each made casual comments about a future with a family, but had never deeply discussed details, and I’d never suspected Millie had reservations.
“A more important question might be if we want them,” I replied carefully.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
She jabbed me playfully in the ribs. “You’re trying to irritate me.”
“Never,” I objected, though I’d certainly been having a game in effort to ease the heaviness of whatever burden weighed on her heart. “Doyouwant them?”
There was silence. It stretched for such a length that I thought she might have fallen asleep.
“Yes,” she said, the word deeply melancholy.
“Why does wanting to be a mother pain you?”
“No one taught me how to be one. I have only bad examples to go by.”
I drew her closer until I could feel the beat of her heart, her breath warm against my neck, the splash of a single tear on my chest.
“You have Ms. Reeves.”
“That’s true,” she replied, thoughtful. “It’s… I don’t want to bring a child into the world if I’m only going to hurt it.”
