New Year's Resolution

Part Seven

A/N: Thanks so much to elwren75 for beta-reading, and to Miss Pseudonymous for your help with this chapter - couldn't have done it without you guys.

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Part Seven

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The day the phone call reached him was one John Thornton would remember for the rest of his life. It had been a long day at work, and he was tired, resulting in his brusque manner as he answered the phone to stop the ringing which made him feel like a hole was being drilled in his head. 'Hello?'

When he heard Margaret's voice at the other end, asking him if he could come to her and come quickly, all his annoyance immediately evaporated. She sounded so strange, and although he easily recognised her voice, so unlike herself. He had never been more frightened. 'Where are you?' he had asked, willing his erratic heartbeat to slow and his palms to stop sweating.

On receiving the answer that she was at work, he made the journey from the offices of Marlborough & Mills Co. to her bookstore in record time. Heedless of the 'Closed' sign, bursting in through the door, he was momentarily relieved to see her sitting behind the desk, apparently well.

But then she turned slowly at the noise of his entrance as if she were waking from a deep sleep, and he was shocked to note that she looked as unlike herself as she sounded. He had never seen her so pale, and there was a look in her eyes which unsettled him, although he could not at first say why. And then it occurred to him that it was not a particular look, but rather the absence of one. It was as if the light behind her eyes had been extinguished and it scared him.

She smiled weakly, and the effort seemed – if it were possible – to cause more blood to drain out of her face. 'I need a doctor,' she said, and he could see the hands which were neatly folded in her lap visibly trembling. 'I don't think I can drive.'

He was at her side at once, and although there were no signs of physical injury evident, he instinctively helped her up. She leaned against him heavily and they slowly walked over to his car.

His heart was racing, and all he could think was, it's too soon. The thought spiralled around his head relentlessly as he drove rather recklessly to the nearest clinic. Too soon, too soon, too soon.

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There was no heartbeat, they had said, and when he heard that John felt like his own heart had stopped. He couldn't even imagine how Margaret was feeling. He looked at her now as they waited before she went into the surgery. She had not shed a single tear when she had heard the news, but her gaze had suddenly become unfocused and distant, as if she had sunk inside herself. She had yet to resurface.

As her name was called, he squeezed her hand in a way that he hoped was reassuring, but although she turned her head to look at him, her eyes still seemed vacant. Hollow-eyed and pale, she allowed the nurses to lead her in, walking slowly as if in a dream.

And then all he could do was wait outside, wishing for some miracle to restore to him his bright-eyed girl with her sunny smile, the compulsive giggler with her wicked sense of humour. The woman they wheeled out some time later outwardly resembled her, but looking in her eyes, huge and dark with sorrow, he couldn't find any trace of the Margaret of old. He wanted her back, so badly that it hurt.

'Margaret,' he said softly, and he hesitantly touched a hand to her cheek. 'Are – are you alright?' Immediately he felt stupid for asking when the answer was so obviously presented to him in the pallor of her face.

She looked up at him as if she hadn't heard. 'Please,' she said, 'take me home.' Heart sinking horribly, he assisted her to the car, and drove them back to the house they had been sharing for the past two months, desperately hoping that that was where she had meant.

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After getting ready for work as usual, John made his way over to Margaret's bedroom, and his heart sank as he saw her form, still huddled under the bedclothes. In truth, he should not have expected any different, but even though it had been the occurrence of the past few mornings since their visit to the hospital, every morning the hope still rose in his heart afresh.

Walking quietly into the room so as not to disturb her, he carefully sat on the bed. After hesitating a moment, he placed a hand on her shoulder. 'Margaret?' She did not stir. 'Margaret, please,' he whispered, not even sure himself what he was begging her to say, to do.

She gave no sign that she had heard him, and sighing, he rose from the bed, removing his hand. Once out of her room, he dialled Edith's number to once more request that she come and keep Margaret company, if she was free. When Margaret needed her, the girl was always free, and while John was grateful to her for it, he was frustrated that he could not do more himself. He could not possibly take days off for some time, as he had only slightly more than a month ago taken two weeks off to honeymoon.

'I made her some mixed vegetable soup and toast,' he told an equally concerned Edith. 'Try and make sure she eats some of it, will you?' It was a matter of growing worry to John, that despite all his newly-acquired culinary skills, he could not seem to tempt Margaret's appetite with anything. She seemed to eat only to oblige him, and only when he was in the house to oversee it.

With one last glance to Margaret's door, he was forced to make his way to work, to spend another day with his head and heart full of her while he tried in vain to concentrate.

Only when she heard the front door close as John departed did Margaret open her eyes to stare unseeingly at the wall. She did not feel up to talking to him. For the past few days he had been tiptoeing around the house and speaking to her in hushed tones when he spoke to her at all, and it only served to remind her that things were not normal.

Every bone in her body seemed to be cast over with a dullness and languor, and she ached all over. The thought of eating made her feel nauseous and the thought of getting up made her feel that it was something she could never aspire to again. The thought of thinking was worst of all, for then the thoughts and hopes and dreams would spin around her head until she was sick and dizzy with them.

Giving in to the tiredness which seemed imprinted into every muscle and joint – so, so tired – she closed her eyes and fell into oblivion once more.

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