while she worked on the accounts, or rummaged in the storeroom for scraps of material to sew into clothes for the baby. Josepha had knitting supplies too, so Lorilla began knitting booties and caps and jackets for her child, and waited for Gabriel to come home.
The idea that Gabriel did not love her as he had loved Elena hurt Lorilla in a place so far inside her she was amazed at its depth. But she accepted the fact that she would never be first with him. How could she complain about anything? Gabriel had given her a gift beyond her wildest imaginings when he married her. No woman could ask for more. She was wealthy, she was cared for, and in a way, and she was even loved. It was more than she'd ever had back in St. Louis. It was more than she'd ever dared to dream about.
Why then, did she wake in the night with tears matting her lashes? Why did she feel a hollow emptiness, which not even the baby could fill? She should be satisfied with everything she had, instead of feeling sorry for herself. She had no reason to expect her husband to love her above all others?
"Josepha?" Lorilla was up early. Actually, she had hardly slept all night. A vague pain had settled in her lower abdomen, and she had thrown up several times. She stepped into the kitchen, where Josepha was directing the making of bread.
"Si, Senora?" Josepha barely looked up. She spoke in rapid Spanish to one of the young women kneading bread.
"Josepha, are you preparing for Gabriel's return? It's been a week. Shouldn't he be back by now?" Lorilla's breath caught as her belly cramped. She gritted her teeth against the pain.
"Ah, you are anxious to tell him the good news?"
Another cramp wrenched Lorilla and she cried out involuntarily.
"Senora Lorilla, what is it? Are you all right?"
She smiled wanly. "I'm fine. I'm just having some cramps."
Josepha rushed to her side. "You go to bed, I bring tea."
"I don't want to stay in bed. I want to prepare for Gabriel's return. I need to wash a few items, and I wanted to finish knitting that pair of booties--ah!" Lorilla clutched her still flat stomach.
She looked at Josepha, whose brow was furrowed in worry.
"What is it Josepha?"
Their eyes met.
"Oh no. No, no, no," Lorilla moaned when she read the cause of her worry in Josepha's eyes. "No, Josepha, you have to help me. Please," she cried. "I cannot lose this baby. Oh God, don't let me lose Gabriel's baby."
Josepha gently guided Lorilla upstairs and to her bed. She made sure Lorilla was as comfortable as possible, then turned to leave.
"Wait! Josepha, where are you going? Don't leave me."
"Senora, I must get rags and hot water."
Lorilla's fists curled around the bedclothes. "Josepha, please tell me we can fix this. Please."
Josepha didn't comment.
For several hours Lorilla stayed in bed, suffering through the bouts of cramps, trying to drink the medicinal tea Josepha brought her and sleeping when the pain would leave her for a while. But late in the afternoon, she began to bleed, and the pain became worse.
Then it was over.
Josepha quietly left. Lorilla curled up, with her hand on her abdomen, and cried silently. The pain in her heart far exceeded the physical pain. She ached with grief and loss for the tiny life that had briefly dwelled within her.
How could she face Gabriel? How would she tell him he had lost another child? Everything he had feared was coming to pass. He had wanted a woman he could depend on to bear a child. He had never wanted her. Now she had proved him right. She had failed him.
He must never know. Lorilla's eyes flew open. She reached for the bell pull. By the time Josepha came, Lorilla was out of bed.
"What are you doing up? You should stay in bed for at least a day. You might start bleeding again."
"No," Lorilla shook her head. "This is no worse than my monthly. I have to make sure Gabriel doesn't find out."
"Doesn't find out? What are you talking about?"
Lorilla grasped Josepha's hands
The idea that Gabriel did not love her as he had loved Elena hurt Lorilla in a place so far inside her she was amazed at its depth. But she accepted the fact that she would never be first with him. How could she complain about anything? Gabriel had given her a gift beyond her wildest imaginings when he married her. No woman could ask for more. She was wealthy, she was cared for, and in a way, and she was even loved. It was more than she'd ever had back in St. Louis. It was more than she'd ever dared to dream about.
Why then, did she wake in the night with tears matting her lashes? Why did she feel a hollow emptiness, which not even the baby could fill? She should be satisfied with everything she had, instead of feeling sorry for herself. She had no reason to expect her husband to love her above all others?
"Josepha?" Lorilla was up early. Actually, she had hardly slept all night. A vague pain had settled in her lower abdomen, and she had thrown up several times. She stepped into the kitchen, where Josepha was directing the making of bread.
"Si, Senora?" Josepha barely looked up. She spoke in rapid Spanish to one of the young women kneading bread.
"Josepha, are you preparing for Gabriel's return? It's been a week. Shouldn't he be back by now?" Lorilla's breath caught as her belly cramped. She gritted her teeth against the pain.
"Ah, you are anxious to tell him the good news?"
Another cramp wrenched Lorilla and she cried out involuntarily.
"Senora Lorilla, what is it? Are you all right?"
She smiled wanly. "I'm fine. I'm just having some cramps."
Josepha rushed to her side. "You go to bed, I bring tea."
"I don't want to stay in bed. I want to prepare for Gabriel's return. I need to wash a few items, and I wanted to finish knitting that pair of booties--ah!" Lorilla clutched her still flat stomach.
She looked at Josepha, whose brow was furrowed in worry.
"What is it Josepha?"
Their eyes met.
"Oh no. No, no, no," Lorilla moaned when she read the cause of her worry in Josepha's eyes. "No, Josepha, you have to help me. Please," she cried. "I cannot lose this baby. Oh God, don't let me lose Gabriel's baby."
Josepha gently guided Lorilla upstairs and to her bed. She made sure Lorilla was as comfortable as possible, then turned to leave.
"Wait! Josepha, where are you going? Don't leave me."
"Senora, I must get rags and hot water."
Lorilla's fists curled around the bedclothes. "Josepha, please tell me we can fix this. Please."
Josepha didn't comment.
For several hours Lorilla stayed in bed, suffering through the bouts of cramps, trying to drink the medicinal tea Josepha brought her and sleeping when the pain would leave her for a while. But late in the afternoon, she began to bleed, and the pain became worse.
Then it was over.
Josepha quietly left. Lorilla curled up, with her hand on her abdomen, and cried silently. The pain in her heart far exceeded the physical pain. She ached with grief and loss for the tiny life that had briefly dwelled within her.
How could she face Gabriel? How would she tell him he had lost another child? Everything he had feared was coming to pass. He had wanted a woman he could depend on to bear a child. He had never wanted her. Now she had proved him right. She had failed him.
He must never know. Lorilla's eyes flew open. She reached for the bell pull. By the time Josepha came, Lorilla was out of bed.
"What are you doing up? You should stay in bed for at least a day. You might start bleeding again."
"No," Lorilla shook her head. "This is no worse than my monthly. I have to make sure Gabriel doesn't find out."
"Doesn't find out? What are you talking about?"
Lorilla grasped Josepha's hands
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