Through the Darkness: Of Love and Loss Series Book One

36

"You've been feeling this way for how long?" Doc Gilbert asked, helping Elyria back to a sitting position on his exam table.

She closed her eyes and covered her mouth until the need to vomit lessened enough to speak. Lately, anything from sitting up to breathing seemed to bring the urge on. "A little over a month, I think." Her stomach lurched, but Doc must have anticipated it because he swooped a bucket under her face just in time.

After expelling what little food she'd managed to keep down that morning, he removed the bucket and offered her a glass of water. "To wash out your mouth."

She took a small sip and quickly swished it around before spitting it out in the bucket he held once more in front of her. Then, after helping her lie back down on the table, he gave her right hand a comforting, fatherly pat.

Elyria forced a swallow. "Am I dying?"

He chuckled. "Countless women tell me it feels like that sometimes, but no."

"What's wrong with me?" She whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, fearing it would set her stomach off.

He settled a gentle hand atop hers. "When did you last have your monthly courses?"

She thought about it for a moment and frowned. "Toward the end of July, but I don't see..." her voice trailed off when the importance of his question hit. Her stomach lurched, and her limbs shook. "Are you telling me I'm—"

"Expecting a child. Yes, I believe you are."

Elyria covered her face with her hands and blew out a slow breath. "You're sure?"

"I'd wager you're no more than ten weeks or so, but it is what all your symptoms suggest. If everything goes well and there are no unforeseen hiccups along the way, you and your husband should be expecting the new addition sometime in late April to early May, I imagine."

Tears of both happiness and fear fell down the sides of her face.

Doc's voice lowered and filled with concern as he gently touched her right arm. "I take it my prognoses has caused a bit of shock?"

Elyria nodded and choked back a sob.

"Believe me, that's a common reaction... but I've no doubt you and your husband will be excellent parents."

"How will I ever be a good mother," she quietly wept, "if I'm unable to see when my child is in need or hurt?"

He fell silent, a chair scraped against the floor before he sat beside her with a sigh, then said softly, "May I share something not many people outside of my own family are aware of?" At her nod, he continued, "I am the seventh of nine children—the only boy of the litter—and my mother, rest her soul, managed to not only keep all of us alive and safe from any serious harm, but she did so while being blind."

Elyria wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffled. "She was?"

"Yes, it developed as a complication of measles at the age of seven." Doc leaned forward and gave her hand another fatherly pat. "There's no guarantee for any woman whether they will or won't be what we deem to be a good mother. And I'll have you know, every parent finds themselves asking that very same question at one point or another."

Elyria tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Are you saying I have nothing to worry about?"

"NO. Heavens, no; in fact, you'll find yourself worrying over some of the silliest things. What I'm saying is parenting is difficult. And we are all of us limited—whether or not we suffer physical impairments." He paused, his voice lowering to a gentle whisper, "Good mothers are not made by their ability to see. It's a matter of the heart."

A sharp knock sounded at the door before it creaked open, and Nurse Sumner said in a low, irritated tone, "Your 2:30 appointment is here, Doctor Gilbert."

"Thank you," he turned and called out, "I'll be just a moment." He held silent until the door clicked shut before muttering, "That woman. Smart as a whip, but her disposition's as sour as a crate of lemons."

Elyria bit back a smile.

Clearing his throat, Doc walked to his desk and began scribbling. "I'm going to send you home with a list I want you to give to your husband. The items should help alleviate or lessen your nausea, which in turn should help you get more rest."

He returned, placed the folded piece of paper in Elyria's hand, and helped her down. "Unfortunately, the other symptoms you are experiencing won't go away for at least another six months; in fact, many of them get worse for some women."

Resting her palm lightly on his elbow, she followed him out of the room.

"Nurse Sumner?" He said, handing Elyria her walking stick. "I'd like to see Mrs. Monterose back in my office in one month."

"Yes, Doctor."

He turned back to Elyria and touched her gently on the arm. "But don't hesitate to see me sooner should the need arise."

"Thank you." Elyria nodded and quickly made her next appointment, eager to leave the ill-tempered Nurse Sumner's presence.

During her walk toward the school, anxious—and if she were honest, a little bit nervous—to share the news with Everett, Elyria couldn't stop thinking of what Doc had said. Pregnant. She pressed her left hand to her belly and shook her head in awe.

What would Everett think when she told him? Would he have the same reservations or fears? A part of her hoped so, if only so she wouldn't be alone.

A crisp breeze blew her hair into her face, snapping her back to the moment at hand. She shivered from the cold and tucked her scarf more firmly under the collar of her winter coat, silently chastising herself for not paying attention to where she walked.

It didn't take long before she realized by the absent sounds of town that she had missed her turn along the way.

Elyria stopped and tried to gain her bearings, then froze when a dog up ahead growled—a deep sound that sent chills of terror through her body. She backed away slowly to put some much-needed distance between them, but the dog growled louder before it let loose a terrifying volley of threatening barks.

A panicked scream tore from her throat, and the desperate urge to flee took over. She ran, not knowing or caring where she was headed so long as it offered her safety. However, the dog chased after her and sank its teeth into the hem of her skirt.

She cried out when she tripped and stumbled, managing to catch her balance and whipping around. Using her walking stick like a club, she beat at the animal until it turned tail and ran, tearing a small chunk from her skirt.

Shaking, Elyria fought back tears and tried to figure out where she was. She held her walking stick in a death grip and resumed walking, but a new fear became evident within the next twenty minutes. She was lost.