ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Thirty-Nine

Over the next few weeks, Alyiah's symptoms seemed to worsen rather than improve. She remained on bed rest per the doctor's orders, who seemed just as puzzled as Jack by the amount of pain and discomfort.

"We'll keep an eye on her," he explained, noticing the worry on Jack's face. "Don't blame yourself," he added.

Jack nodded, though it wasn't going to be easy. After all, if it hadn't been for his help, Alyiah wouldn't have become pregnant at all. It was difficult not to share some of the blame. When the doctor had gone, he sat with Alyiah while he did his work. He had taken time off from the hotel due to Alyiah's condition, not wanting her to be alone.

"You should not have to do this," she said as she sat up with him. He kissed her softly, brushing her hair away from her face.

"We'll be all right with the money we've saved," he replied. "Now, I'm concerned for you."

Alyiah sighed, looking at her still mostly flat stomach. Despite feeling so miserable, she was thrilled to have a chance for another baby.

"I want you to be happy also, Jack," she said, and he smiled.

"I'm working on my art and seeing you every day--that is all I really need," he answered, and Alyiah smiled, reaching up to touch his face.

"I think I have remembered where I heard the name Macena," she said, and he raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Where?" he asked, and she glanced at the window for a moment.

"Remember when you brought me to Ireland? It was the name of the innkeeper who housed us...I remember thinking how unusual the name sounded."

Jack leaned back. "You know," he continued, "I do like Macena--we could call her Mac for short."

Alyiah laughed, though she stopped when it caused a bit of pain. "Yes, Mac and Jack--it is like a nursery rhyme pair." She squeezed his arm.

"We can't get too hopeful our baby will be a girl," he said as he stretched his arms over his head. "It could be a boy, you know."

Alyiah shook her head. "I can feel that we'll have a girl. I--everything about me is different than last time." She shrugged. "It is hard to describe."

Jack took her hand. "Well, then," he said softly, "we'll pray for a girl."

Alyiah nodded before her eyes closed, and she announced that she would be dozing for a bit.

"If you need me, just call," Jack insisted, kissing her again before deciding to make a cup of tea. He usually had tea at night and coffee in the morning. Alyiah, however, did not like the taste of coffee, so she usually had tea, or hot water with lemon if they were out of tea.

Jack took his mug into the parlor, where he could stare through the large windows overlooking the wide, sloping yard. There was nothing like the comfort of being home again, though he hadn't lost the urge to travel. He wanted to return to Europe and visit the countries he had missed before. When Alyiah had the baby, he would bring them both, and make certain to visit Russia to show Macena off to her grandparents.

Jack watched as the sky darkened early as it always did in the fall, and lit a candle for his reading light. His parents never used any electrical devices, wanting to remain simplistic and closer to God. His mother was still influential in her Amish ways, and it was certainly inexpensive. He sat up drawing until the candle died before heading to bed.

*****

As Alyiah went through the next couple of months, she began to improve considerably. Her stomach was growing quite large around Christmas, and Jack insisted he draw a portrait of her in that condition.

"I am hideous." She laughed. "I do hope you do not plan on selling this."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Alyiah, you look more beautiful than ever. And I must have a solid memory of this moment."

He finally convinced her to pose for him on the chair in their bedroom, wearing only her dressing gown. Alyiah smiled as his hands flew across the page, pleased by the pride radiating from him.

Alyiah finished knitting a baby blanket by Christmas Eve, insisting it be used to wrap their newborn infant. Jack fingered the soft wool between his fingers...he prayed every night that things would go smoothly.

Due to Alyiah's health, though, Christmas was not the usual lavish affair. They remained home this year, and Olivia cooked for them as her gift, while Esther instructed Jack and Alyiah on child care.

"Of course, the only experience I have had is raising you," Esther admitted.

Alyiah chuckled, feeing Jack wrap his arms around her waist.

*****

In February, Jack came down with influenza, which kept him bedridden for two weeks. He didn't want Alyiah in the house, so she remained with Esther while Olivia played his sick nurse. He went through a rather bad spell with his asthma, but with the administration of herbs and rest, he felt better.

In the spring, around mid-April, Alyiah began to feel unwell again herself. Jack returned home to find her unconscious on the parlor floor and was immediately on his knees beside her.

He managed to get her into bed after a while, though she was rather delirious.

It wasn't until the doctor arrived that Alyiah finally opened her eyes, complaining of a terrible sense of dizziness and nausea. Her lower abdomen screamed with pain when she tried to sit, and the cry it produced tore Jack's heart.

"The baby is going to be arriving soon," Dr. Owen told Jack. "I fear we may have to go in and get it...if she does not improve by the time the labor begins."

Jack felt helpless watching his wife lying in a comatose state, her eyes glazed with fever. Olivia sat with her sister-in-law, blotting the older woman's face with a damp rag, trying to give her brother any assistance she could.

"What are her chances if..." Jack cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he apologized, turning away, and clasped a hand against his forehead. This had to be a nightmare, a terrible nightmare...Alyiah couldn't be--he refused to think the word.

"I'm going to be honest, Jack, because the situation is a bit of a dead end either way," Dr. Owen admitted.

Jack swallowed anxiously before excusing himself to step outside for a breath of fresh air. If Alyiah died, would he be able to raise the baby on his own? He was terrified at the prospect of losing the woman he loved, unsure of what to do.

He jumped when the front door opened and looked up to see Olivia watching him with concern in her eyes. She was so grown up for just thirteen years old, and he could see how closely she resembled their real mother.

"How are you?" she asked, sitting on the steps beside him, and he shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted, and she immediately embraced him, letting him bury his face against her shoulder.

"What did we do to deserve this?" he choked. "I don't know what I'd do if..." He took a deep breath. "I'm so scared," he added. "I can't--I can't raise a baby by myself. I can't..."

Olivia squeezed his hand. "Don't think like that," she begged. "Miracles happen, and it may be that she turns out fine."

He paused to sneeze, accepting a handkerchief. "She's in so much pain," he added. "I almost wish there was a way to take this back, but--" He glanced at the sky, which was slowly turning a mix of orange and pink. "Seeing her so happy when she finally became pregnant was really worth it."

Olivia smiled. "We're all praying, Jack."

He looked at her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "You look so much like Ma," he admitted, and she grinned.

"Really?" she asked. "Am I pretty, Jack?"

He chuckled as they stood, preparing to go back inside. "You're beautiful," he replied. He heard Alyiah give a cry from upstairs and took off for the sick room.

Dr. Owen was massaging her stomach when he arrived, trying to relieve some of the tension. Alyiah grabbed Jack's hand when he came to her bedside, and he realized her pillow was drenched with sweat.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, and Dr. Owen ceased his work.

"Trying to relax the muscles--they are very tight," he explained, shaking his head. "I think it's best if I stay--"

Olivia bit her lip. "I can take care of her," she insisted, and Jack touched her arm.

"Esther needs your help," he reminded her, and Olivia pouted.

"I want to be here when the baby comes," Olivia begged, and Dr. Owen smiled.

"It is too dangerous for a young lass like yourself to be involved," he replied, and Olivia lowered her head, receiving a pat on the shoulder. She knew better than to argue, and decided to step aside for the time being.

The next couple of nights were the longest Jack had ever spent in his life. He and the doctor watched over Alyiah hour after hour, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Her fever worsened, making her delirious most of the time.

"Any day now," Dr. Owen told Jack, who wasn't sure if he should feel relief about this or dread. He was so tired and scared--he was losing Alyiah with every painful breath she took.

"Go and rest, lad," the doctor encouraged him. "It won't do us any good if you pass out on us."

Jack wanted to protest--Alyiah needed him, but his mind was so cloudy with exhaustion. He kissed her forehead before making the doctor swear to let him know if there was any change.

It wasn't until early in the morning on May tenth that Alyiah went into labor. The cries were deafening, and at one point, Jack prayed for some form--any form--of relief. Olivia came to offer her assistance, covering the lower half of the bed with towels. Jack had to leave the room after a while, anxiety getting the better of him. He sat in the parlor, his face in his hands.

Around noon on May eleventh, Alyiah gave birth to a healthy, wailing daughter. Unfortunately, she lost a dangerous amount of blood in the process, and passed away by midnight.

When Olivia offered to hand Macena to Jack following the death, he turned away, unable to bear the sight of the infant.

"Jack," Olivia pleaded. "Don't..."

He stormed off and shut himself into the study, resting his head against the door. Alyiah was dead--how could this be?

Anger billowed inside of him after a few minutes of silence, and he snatched the double-headed eagle from the desktop. With one motion he threw it across the room, watching as the gold artifact shattered into a cluster of gold pieces.

Chapter Forty
Stories