Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1) (23 page)

She reached for him and he gathered her tenderly into his arms. He rocked her, whispering calming noises as she cried. I was loath to interrupt them, but I felt an urgency to get her medical treatment.

"Pix, you need to get to the hospital."

"No, I can't. I can't go there."

"You need a doctor," Matt agreed, "and the emergency room is the only place you’ll get one this time of night."

Holly buried herself deeper into his chest. "I can't go there. Fred will be there. Or if he isn't, one of his buddies will be."

Matt could hardly argue the point. He had made the same decision just a week ago. He looked up at me, clearly expecting me to have an answer.

"Let Mattie take you to the hospital in Carbondale. It's outside Fred's influence and it's not that far."

She nodded but didn't move, so Matt lifted her. I went out first to be sure that no one was outside before he carried Holly out to his car. I opened the passenger door so he could place her on the seat.

"Thanks for your help—again," Matt said. He kissed my cheek before running around to the other side of the car.

"Call me with an update."

"I will," he said before driving off at an alarming speed.

As I watched them go, I questioned my decision to send her away without doing anything to help. I resolved to learn the proper treatments for pregnant women so I wouldn't feel this helpless again.

When Matt's car was out of sight, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. This time I didn't care if Holly approved. I did a quick search, finding the number for the local police department and dialed. A woman picked up.

"May I please speak with Officer Tom Lynch?" I asked.

Alexander had a cup of tea waiting for me when I came home. I sat with him on the sofa, sipping the tea and recounting what had happened at the store. As I described Matt racing off to the hospital, there was a knock at the front door.

"It's a little late for a house call, isn't it, Officer Lynch?" Alexander asked when he answered the door.

"Xander, I called him," I said. I hadn't yet gotten to that part of the story.

Alexander led Tom into the living room. I set the teacup on the side table, suddenly exhausted.

"Fred is in the emergency room." Tom sounded tired. "He's saying Holly stabbed him."

"Tommy," I said. "Won't you have a seat?"

Both men remained standing. Tom's face looked drawn, and he had bags under his eyes, but he still stood in what I thought of as his cop stance.

"I'm looking for Holly. She's not at their house or her parents’. I thought she might be with you."

"She's not here," I said, shaking my head. "She's at the hospital in Carbondale. The doctors want to watch her overnight. The stress of the beating may have harmed the baby."

Tom's face went ashen.

"I didn't know it was that bad. I need to speak to her as soon as possible."

My weariness had shortened my temper, and I lashed out at him.

"Fred tried to strangle her, to kill her and her baby. I don't understand, Tommy. After all he’s put her through, what do you intend to do? Arrest her?"

He closed his eyes for a minute, his posture drooping.

"It was self-defense, I get that, but Fred is over in the emergency room screaming bloody murder. She needs to give her side of the story or she'll be charged with assault—possibly even attempted murder."

I nodded, seeing the sense in what he said.

"Tressa, I've made mistakes. I see now that I have to take off my blinders. Fred isn't the guy I grew up with anymore. He hasn't been for a long time; I just refused to recognize it. I promise I will do everything I can to make sure Holly's safe from him."

He wasn't the only one who had waited too long to help Holly. I had the taste of guilt in my mouth as well.

We got a call from Matt just before we went to bed; Tom had come and taken Holly's statement. Matt would stay with her overnight.

I woke up early the next morning and went to my grandfather's library, determined to learn more about healing pregnant women.

I paged through three books, finding many references to conditions that accompany pregnancy but nothing related to treating a battered pregnant woman. There were also passages regarding chronic conditions in pregnancy, but none of it was relevant to Holly's situation.

The fourth book, an ancient text written in Old Gaelic, showed promise. I rarely read in the old language but I stumbled along following, with my index finger as I read.

Footsteps in the hallway distracted me. Gilleagán stumbled by the library door, still in his pajamas and a robe. When he saw me, he switched tracks and came into the room.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked.

"What time is it?"

I shrugged. "It's well before noon."

He looked over my shoulder at the open book.

"What are you doing, a little light reading?" he said sarcastically.

"I'm doing research on healing a pregnant woman."

He yawned.

"Did something happen to your store clerk?"

"Aye," I said, surprised he remembered I had a clerk, let alone that she was pregnant.

He had lost interest before I even answered his question.

"Later, Jewels."

"Gil, why did you come to Pine Ridge?" I asked, my usual annoyance falling away, replaced by curiosity.

His eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you came to visit me, but why? I haven't seen you in years. You didn't come to our parents' Sendoff; you’ve never even sent me a kind word."

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. I could have sworn he leaned toward me when he flicked the lighter open to bring up a flame.

"Did you just come here to annoy me? To call me by an old nickname you know I hate and spark flames around me?"

He inhaled and blew out a stream of smoke.

"You've always been too sensitive and too serious. Lighten up, Tressa. Not everything is about you."

I sighed. He would never understand.

"Mamó's complaining she has seen little of you since you've arrived. Why not make her happy and join us for dinner once in a while?" I asked.

"You see, that's just the thing, Tressie," he said in a teasing voice. "I came because I wanted to spend time with both of you, but I'd forgotten the weird schedule you keep. What is it you like about the daytime so much?"

I laughed as he turned again to go.

"Baby's breath is what you need," he said. He waved and left, walking toward the kitchen.

I went back to the thick tome in front of me, surprised to see he was right. The ointment in the book called for baby's breath.

About an hour later, Alexander found me in the greenhouse.

"You're home early," I said.

"Tressa, we need to get you to Holly." He grabbed my hand and I thought for a second that he would drag me away.

"Xander, wait— tell me what's going on. Did Matt call?"

"No, I just know that she needs you."

I quickly gathered up the sprigs of baby's breath I had been clipping and followed him out. I made him wait while I ran to my pantry and grabbed a small bottle of lavender essential oil.

As we drove out of the gates to the estate, my phone rang.

"Tressa, you’ve got to get over here as fast as you can." Matt's voice cracked with emotion.

"We're already on our way. Tell me what's happening."

"She's bleeding, and she's really out of it. They think she may lose the baby. We might lose her, too. She begged me not to let her baby die. Begged me."

Tears sprang to my eyes as I heard the agony in his voice.

"How am I supposed to do that? There's no one I can call but you. I'm sorry, Tressa; I know you wanted no part in this."

"Nonsense. I was afraid because I didn't know what to do. I'm better prepared now. We'll be there soon."

Twenty minutes later, thanks to Alexander's willingness to break every speed limit, we stepped out of the elevator and onto the hospital's maternity ward.

A locked door blocked the entrance to the unit. Alexander pushed the button on the wall to summon someone to open the door. Through the window I could see a burly woman wearing light blue scrubs sitting at the nurses' station. She glanced up at us but continued typing.

Alexander pressed and held the button down until the woman looked up again. Annoyance clouded her face. She looked again at the computer screen before sliding her chair over to her intercom.

"Yes?" she asked

"We're here to see Holly Moyer," I said, holding a visitor’s badge up to the window. She looked unimpressed, but she buzzed the door open.

We hurried inside and down the hall, following the arrow pointing toward her room number. A uniformed police officer sat on a chair in the hallway outside the room.

"Sorry, no visitors allowed for Mrs. Moyer without proper authorization." He reached down and retrieved a clipboard from the floor under his seat. "I need to see some ID to see if you're on this list."

I could feel Alexander's anger and frustration growing, fueled by his urgency to stop a tragedy. The officer eyed Alexander's jumpy body language suspiciously. I brushed Alexander's arm to calm him.

I smiled sweetly at the policeman. "Officer, may I ask, what your name is?" I said innocently.

"Rob Turner, ma'am." He focused on me, forgetting Alexander.

"Robert, is it then?"

"No ma'am, it's Robin."

I leaned over until we were about eye to eye, the officer's expression a mixture of surprise and exhilaration.

I locked his gaze to mine.

"Robin Turner, you will let us into this room and allow us to stay as long as we like."

He remained frozen until I broke my gaze from his.

"Well, you guys go right on in and stay as long as you like," he said without so much as glancing at us again.

Alexander rapped once before opening the door. Holly lay on a hospital bed in the middle of the room, her skin nearly as white as the sheet that covered her. The starkness of the room and the equipment surrounding her bed seem to dwarf her.

Matt sat in a chair at her bedside, holding her hand. He leaned forward, his forehead resting on the bed. He looked up as we entered and put a finger to his mouth to shush us.

"She's sleeping," he whispered.

He moved away and stood with Alexander as I took his place beside her. Holly's breathing was shallow. The bruising on her face contrasted dramatically against her sallow skin. She looked decidedly worse than the last time I‘d seen her.

Her eyes fluttered. She smiled awkwardly. "Tressa, you're here." Her words were barely audible.

"Aye, Pix, I'm here."

"I was thinking how silly I was, worrying about that strange flu when the real danger was right in my own home."

"Sure, and you're a mom now," I told her. "Moms worry about everything—it’s what they do. It's not silly at all."

One big tear rolled down her face.

"I don't know if I’ll get to be a mom, Tressa. They say I'm losing the baby."

"Well, Pix, we’re not going to let that happen. You see, I have a bit of skill with healing. If you say it's okay, I'm going to try to help."

She nodded before dozing off again. I searched the room and found a small plastic basin. I washed it and my hands in the little bathroom inside the room and set the basin on her overbed table.

I set about mixing an ointment, pouring several tablespoons of the lavender oil into the bottom of the basin. Taking the sprigs of baby's breath, I crumbled them into the oil. As per the book’s instructions, I mixed them together and infused my essence into the ointment before placing it on the patient.

I sang the accompanying intonation softly as I worked the oil and bits of my spirit into the baby's breath. When the ointment was complete, I didn't rub the salve directly on her abdomen, not wanting to disturb the fetus any more than it already was. Instead, I slathered it into the pulse points on her wrists, temples, neck, and behind her knees to allow it to travel through her blood stream.

When I had finished applying all the ointment, I prayed. I prayed to the Virgin Mary, the patron saint of mothers, to intercede on our behalf. I prayed to God Himself that I had done enough to heal the damage and save the child.

Alexander and I kept vigil with Matt as she continued to worsen. She seemed to slip into a coma, which puzzled the doctors. At first I thought it was just a deep sleep brought on by rapid healing. However, as she remained motionless—except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest—for hours on end, I became convinced that my attempt at rapid healing had overtaxed her system. We were losing them both.

I took my turn staring out the room's small window four hours into our vigil. The window overlooked a main thoroughfare of the small town. The bells in the church steeple a block away struck the hour—one, two, three, four, five. I counted to myself as they rang out. As the last bell fell silent a light, soft voice whispered behind me.