The Bone Garden: A Novel

Four

THE SOUND OF MOANING awakened Rose. Sometime in the night she had fallen asleep in the chair beside Aurnia's bed. Now she lifted her head, her neck aching, and suddenly saw that her sister's eyes were open, her face contorted in pain.

Rose straightened. — Aurnia? —

— I cannot bear this any longer. If only I could die now. —

— Darling, don't say such a thing. —

— The morphine— it gives me no relief. —

Rose suddenly focused on Aurnia's bedsheet. On the stain of fresh blood. She shot to her feet in alarm. — I'll find a nurse. —

— And the priest, Rose. Please. —

Rose hurried from the ward. Oil lamps cast their weak glow against the shadows, and the flames wavered as she ran past. By the time she returned to her sister's bed with Nurse Robinson and Nurse Poole, the stain on Aurnia's sheets had spread to a widening swath of bright red. Miss Poole took one startled look at the blood and snapped to the other nurse: — We move her to surgery at once! —

There was no time to send for Dr. Crouch; instead, the young house physician, Dr. Berry, was roused from his room on the hospital grounds. Blond hair in disarray, his eyes bloodshot, Dr. Berry stumbled sleepily into the surgery room where Aurnia had been rushed. Instantly he paled at the sight of so much bleeding.

— We must be quick about it! — he said, and fumbled through his bag of instruments. — Must evacuate the womb. The baby may have to be sacrificed. —

Aurnia gave an anguished cry of protest. — No. No, my baby must live! —

— Hold her down, — he ordered. — This will be painful. —

— Rose, — pleaded Aurnia. — Don't let him kill my baby! —

— Miss Connolly, leave the room! — snapped Agnes Poole.

— No, we'll need her, — said Dr. Berry.

— There are two of us to hold down the patient. —

— Even you and Nurse Robinson may not be strong enough once I begin. —

Aurnia writhed as a fresh contraction gripped her, and her moan rose to a scream. — Oh, God, the pain! —

— Tie down her hands, Miss Poole, — ordered Dr. Berry. He looked at Rose. — And you, girl! You're her sister? —

— Yes, sir. —

— Come here and keep her calm. Help hold her down if need be. —

Shaking, Rose moved closer to the bed. The iron smell of blood was overwhelming. The mattress was soaked a brilliant red, and Aurnia's blood-streaked thighs were fully exposed, all attempts at protecting her modesty forgotten in the more pressing concern of saving her life. One glance at young Dr. Berry's ashen face told Rose that the situation was grim. And he was so young, surely too young for such a crisis, his mustache a pale wisp on his upper lip. His surgical instruments were soon scattered across a low table as he frantically rummaged for the right tool. The instrument he picked up was a frightening device, by all appearances designed to maim and crush.

— Don't hurt my baby, — Aurnia moaned. — Please. —

— I'll try to preserve your child's life, — said Dr. Berry. — But I need you to lie perfectly still, madam. Do you understand? —

Aurnia managed a weak nod.

The two nurses tied down Aurnia's hands, then stationed themselves on either side of the bed, each grasping a leg.

— You, girl! Take her shoulders, — Nurse Poole ordered Rose. — Keep her pressed to the bed. —

Rose moved to the head of the bed and placed her hands on Aurnia's shoulders. Her sister's milk-white face stared up at her, long red hair spilling across the pillow, green eyes wild with panic. Her skin gleamed with sweat and fear. Suddenly her face contorted in pain and she tried to rock forward, her head lifting off the bed.

— Hold her still! Hold her! — ordered Dr. Berry. Grasping his monstrous forceps, he leaned in between Aurnia's thighs, and Rose was grateful that she did not have to witness what he did next. Aurnia shrieked as though her very soul was being wrenched from her body. A burst of red suddenly splattered the young doctor's face and he jerked back, his shirt sprayed with blood.

Aurnia's head flopped back against the pillow and she lay panting, her screams now reduced to whimpers. In the sudden quiet, another sound rose. A strange mewing that steadily crescendoed to a wail.

The child. The child is alive!

The doctor straightened, and in his arms he held the newborn girl, the skin bluish and streaked with blood. He handed the baby to Nurse Robinson, who quickly wrapped the crying infant in a towel.

Rose stared at the doctor's shirt. So much blood. Everywhere she looked— the mattress, the sheets— she saw blood. She looked down into her sister's face and saw that her lips were moving, but through the wails of the newborn she could not hear the words.

Nurse Robinson brought the swaddled infant to Aurnia's bed. — Here's your little girl, Mrs. Tate. See how lovely she is! —

Aurnia struggled to focus on her new daughter. — Margaret, — she whispered, and Rose felt the sudden sting of tears. It was their mother's name. If only she were alive to see her first grandchild.

— Tell him, — Aurnia whispered. — He doesn't know. —

— I'll send for him. I'll make him come, — said Rose.

— You have to tell him where I am. —

— He knows where you are. — Eben just never bothers to visit.

— There's too much bleeding. — Dr. Berry thrust his hand between Aurnia's thighs, and she was now so dazed that she scarcely flinched at the pain. — But I can feel no retained placenta. — He swept aside his soiled instruments, sending the forceps thudding to the floor. Pressing his hands on Aurnia's belly, he kneaded the flesh, vigorously massaging the abdomen. The blood continued to soak into the sheets, seeping in a wider and wider stain. He glanced up, and his eyes now reflected the first glint of panic. — Cold water, — he ordered. — As cold as you can get it! We'll need compresses. And ergot! —

Nurse Robinson set the swaddled infant in the crib and scurried from the room to fetch what he had asked for.

— He doesn't know, — Aurnia moaned.

— She must lie quiet! — Dr. Berry ordered. — She exacerbates the hemorrhage! —

— Before I die, someone must tell him he has a child… —

The door flew open and Nurse Robinson hurried back in, carrying a basin of water. — It's as cold as I could make it, Dr. Berry, — she said.

The doctor soaked a towel, wrung it out, and placed the frigid compress on the patient's abdomen. — Give her the ergot! —

In the cradle, the newborn cried harder, her wail more piercing with each breath. Nurse Poole suddenly blurted: — For pity's sake, take that baby out of here! — Nurse Robinson reached for the infant, but Nurse Poole snapped: — Not you! I need you here. Give it to her. — She looked at Rose. — Take your niece and quiet her down. We need to attend to your sister. —

Rose took the screaming infant and reluctantly crossed toward the door. There she stopped and looked back at her sister. Aurnia's lips were even paler now, the last remnants of color slowly draining from her face as she whispered silent words.

Please be merciful, God. If you hear this prayer, let my sweet sister live.

Rose stepped out of the room. There in the gloomy hallway, she rocked the crying infant, but the baby would not be comforted. She slipped her finger into little Margaret's mouth, and toothless gums clamped down as she began to suck. At last, silence. A cold wind had found its way into the dark passage, and two of the lamps had blown out. Only a single flame glowed. She stared at the closed door, shut off from the one soul whom she held dear.

No, there's another to love now, she thought, looking down at baby Margaret. You.

Standing beneath the single flickering lamp, Rose studied the baby's pale and downy hair. The eyelids were still swollen from the travails of birth. She examined five little fingers and marveled at the hand's plump perfection, marred only by a heart-shaped strawberry mark on the wrist. So this is what a brand-new life feels like, she thought, looking down at the sleeping child. So rosy, so warm. She placed her hand on the tiny chest and through the blanket felt the beating of her heart, quick as a bird's. Such a sweet girl, she thought. My little Meggie.

The door suddenly swung open, spilling light into the hall. Nurse Poole came out of the room, closing the door behind her. She halted and stared at Rose, as though surprised to see her still there.

Fearing the worst, Rose asked: — My sister? —

— She still lives. —

— And her condition? Will she— —

— The bleeding has stopped, that's all I can tell you, — snapped Nurse Poole. — Now take the baby to the ward. It's warmer there. This hall is far too drafty for a newborn. — She turned and hurried away down the corridor.

Shivering, Rose looked down at Meggie and thought: Yes, it's far too cold here for you, poor thing. She carried the baby back to the lying-in ward and sat down in her old chair beside Aurnia's empty bed. As the night wore on, the baby fell asleep in her arms. Wind rattled the windows and sleet ticked against the glass, but there was no word of Aurnia's condition.

From outside came the rumble of wheels over cobblestones. Rose crossed to the window. In the courtyard, a horse and phaeton rolled to a stop, the canopy concealing the face of the driver. The horse suddenly gave a panicked snort, its hooves dancing nervously as it threatened to bolt. A second later Rose saw the reason for the beast's alarm: merely a large dog, which trotted across the courtyard, its silhouette moving purposefully across cobblestones that glistened with rain and sleet.

— Miss Connolly. —

Startled, Rose turned to see Agnes Poole. The woman had slipped into the ward so quietly Rose had not heard her approach.

— Give me the baby. —

— But she sleeps so soundly, — said Rose.

— Your sister cannot possibly nurse the baby. She's far too weak. I've taken the liberty of making other arrangements. —

— What arrangements? —

— The infant asylum is here to fetch her. They'll provide a wet nurse. And most certainly, a fine home. —

Rose stared at the nurse in disbelief. — But she's not an orphan! She has a mother! —

— A mother who most likely will not live. — Nurse Poole held out her arms, and her hands looked like unwelcoming claws. — Give her to me. It's for the baby's own good. You certainly cannot care for her. —

— She has a father, too. You haven't asked him. —

— How can I? He hasn't even bothered to show up. —

— Did Aurnia agree to this? Let me speak to her. —

— She's unconscious. She can't say anything. —

— Then I'll speak for her. This is my niece, Miss Poole, my own family. — Rose hugged the baby tighter. — I'll give her up to no stranger. —

Agnes Poole's face had gone rigid in frustration. For a dangerous moment she appeared ready to wrench the baby from Rose's arms. Instead, she turned and swept out of the ward, her skirt snapping smartly with every stride. A door slammed shut.

Outside, in the courtyard, the horse's hooves clattered nervously on the stones.

Rose went back to the window and watched as Agnes Poole materialized from the shadows of the walkway and crossed to the waiting phaeton to speak to the occupant. A moment later the driver snapped the whip and the horse clopped forward. As the vehicle drove out the gate, Agnes Poole stood alone, her silhouette framed by the glistening stones of the courtyard.

Rose looked down at the baby in her arms and saw, in the sleeping face, a miniature in flesh of her own dear sister. No one will ever take you from me. Not while I still breathe.