Page 37 of Conail

He felt disoriented and aroused. He wanted her more than he wanted to live.

"I don't know."

She swung her legs off the bed and rose before he could move to stop her.

"Where are you going?"

"When you decide what to do about us, you know where to find me." She looked around for her clothes and had to fight almost physically not to allow her emotions to take over.

"It's late," he began foolishly.

"I'm leaving. But you can stay."

He caught her at the door, hands pinning her there. "Please don't go."

"I cannot stay!" She shoved at him, the feel of his flesh, making her weak. Tears clouded her eyes. "I cannot go on like this and we're going to end up resenting each other. I want more and I--" She shook her head and pursed her lips. "I want more."

They stood there suspended in silence for what seemed like forever. The cabin was isolated, and the thick winter snow covered everything. The fire he had kindled was already dying down, but the warmth made the plain log building cozy and intimate.

She could feel his body heat and the scent of his subtle cologne. His body was hard and lean from years of manual labor and she ached to feel him wrapped around her again. But he was giving her just that -- a hard willing body when she wanted his heart.

She was dying to hear those words that he had whispered so long ago. Words of commitment for the future. Without them, she wanted to die.

"Give me time." He whispered and gathered her close. "I need to think things through. But I want you so much. Don't leave."

She should go. Just shove at him and leave. But instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her back to the well-used bed, knowing she would regret it in the morning.

*****

Instead of getting better, she got worse and as soon as she hit the second trimester, had to be rushed to the hospital. Her blood pressure was sky high, and her feet were swelling.

The fetus was sucking everything from her. The doctors had some sort of medical term for it, but it boiled down to the fact that she was not doing very well and for the first time, Yasmine's family and Eleanor were gravely concerned.

She had a private consult with the doctor in charge.

"I hate to bring this up--" She paced the length of the private office they had been offered, a frown on her brow. "Do you think we should terminate the pregnancy?"

Charlene stared at her steadily. "That's going to be up to Conail. Where is he?"

"On his way and he's going to want answers." She moved over to the window that overlooked the main parking lot. January had ended with fierce snowstorms as if trying to make its stamp on this part of the world by showing its reluctance to leave.

Ice dripped off trees made bare by the brutal weather.

"What do you think?" She asked without turning around.

"She needs complete bedrest for a few weeks. If we manage to get the pressure under control, she will be okay. She's already showing signs of improvement."

They both looked up at the knock on the door. It was pushed open and Conail stepped in, eyes assessing the two women.

"Mother. Doctor." He pinned the woman with his gaze. "Tell me." The authority in his tone was unmistakable. Dr. Channing felt more than a little bit intimidated as she outlined the symptoms and the treatments.

"How detrimental will it be for her to have an abortion?" he asked tightly. He had convinced himself to stay away and even though it had been three weeks, he had been unable to get her out of his mind. Reading the reports had made things even worse.

Charlene answered carefully. "If the embryo is endangering her life, we can consider that possibility. But we are going to have to consult Yasmine. It's her body."

"I'm well aware of that." He could not help but think that his seed was poison or there was something wrong with him. "I need to see her."

"She's resting."

---