Keep My Heart- Prologue

Keep My Heart- 36

"Almost every girl falls in love with the wrong man, I suppose it's a part of growing up."

-Natalie Wood

Hey, fansies! Please, please, please vote for this chapter! There are only a few more left and I'll be finished! The more support I get, the faster I'll get it done! Monday was my birthday, so it should be pretty insipiring! I heard "It's my party" by Lesley Gore, and it made me laugh. That was random. But anyway.

Emery stood over his son, holding a rifle. He shook, having smacked the man as hard as he possibly could. 

"Are you-"

Immediately, she was sobbing and he rushed over to her. The old man picked her up, which would later result in a back ache. But it did not matter then. He was determined to get her inside. "Bind his hands and feet!"

"Did he hurt you?"

"He pushed me down...and he kicked me and he tried to...he reached for his pants and he covered my face with my skirt-"

"But he didn't, did he?" Emery persisted,  and set her on the sofa. 

"No. He didn't. It had all happened so quickly, Emery, and I...please send for the doctor to make certain that my child is well. If he has hurt my baby, I'll kill him." She said it so quietly, so small and seriously, Emery knew that she meant it. 

So he did send for the doctor, who examined her, and said that her baby was well and fine. With him came the authorities, taking Rashleigh to the jailhouse in Boston. The magistrate told the shaken Mrs. Hawke that her brother-in-law wouldn't bother her any longer. She smiled softly, thanking them for all the things they were doing for her. She offered them tea, which each of them accepted. 

Doctor Spurlock advised her to not push herself too much, in light of the morbid situation. But in the midst of it, after she had herself recieved a cup of tea, and sat down with polite conversation, she felt much better. Certainly, she was still deeply disturbed, but the kindness of these officers was more than enough to soothe her fears.

They left after an hour, and all went home to tell their wives about the charming Mrs. Hawke who they should all call upon when given the chance. They had asked of her days of recieving guests, and they had been surprised by her own surprise. "I suppose any Saturday afternoon should suffice," she had said. 

So, she was to be expecting some guests, who would be her new friends. 

That night she went to bed, but could not sleep. The night was warm and rather windy, and she sat up with an old book that she must have read a dozen times. Her candle was yellow and flickered across her page. The night was quiet, and she was lost in the pages of a very worn book that Adam had had before she adopted it to herself.

Yes, the night was quiet, and the book was good. It kept her mind off of the dreadful almost event of the day. She read it with deep interest, smiling softly at the gentle movement of her child. Olivia was tired, but her mind rolled over and over. 

Her stomach grumbled, and she thought of the cake downstairs the cook had baked earlier that week. Something sweet and rich was precisely what she needed right now. And besides, now that Rashleigh was in jail, she felt free again to roam her house without fear of being hurt. 

So, Olivia pressed her mildly swollen feet into her satin Indian slippers, her nightrail falling around her like a waterfall. The waters of white muslin rolled over her feet with every step she took down the stairs, holding her candle. The great house was all silent. The servants slept, for there was no slight clambering in the kitchen, no scurrying of feet to clean something, no quiet singing. 

The soundlessness was a gentle comfort to her. She held her candle out before her, watching how it cast light over the lovely, dark house. Touching the wall, Olivia imagined small children running through the halls, screaming, driving her absolutely mad. She dreamed of sitting on a blanket with her little one in the garden, feeding her and playing with her.

She was certain then, in that moment, that her child was a girl. She pictured no son, at least not for now. 

Entering the kitchen, she began to hum to herself. She went to the display where the dark, pretty chocolate cake, and lifted the lid. It clattered on the counter as she searched about for a knife to cut it.

How crazy life was. She missed Constance  very much these days, especially now. It hit her like a chariot hitting a victim in the colesseum, missing her friend. 

Settling with her cake, Olivia enjoyed herself, and was very tired thereafter. She finished it at the counter and drank a glass of cold, white milk from the ice box. Content with her snack, she sat for a moment, listening to the rain that had begun to fall outside. It was late, and the rain was soft. 

The house around her was just so quiet. She listened to it, enjoying the quietness, the falling of the rain, the sounds of the settling house. There were visions of her husband, slaving to build this beautiful place, to build his legacy to their children. Perhaps the only piece of him that their baby would ever know. This thought saddened her, but even if Adam wasn't there, at least she was able to care for their child. Olivia decided then that she could not and would not die in deliverance of her child. 

Leaving the crumb riddled plate on the counter, along with the chocolatey fork and empty milk glass, Olivia wandered back to bed, candle in hand. She climbed the stairs with their fine blue carpet, admiringly running her fingers over the banister as she made her way there. 

The bed was soft beneath her, comforting, inviting. Soon she was comfortable and happy, blankets around her. The rain pattered outside her window. It was dark and sweet and she was happy. She was nearly asleep.

Then she heard it.

At first she had considered it to be distant thunder. In that middle place between consciousness and sleep, she had dreamed it was thunder. But it grew closer, louder, like vibrating on the earth. Sitting up, Olivia Hawke listened a little more carefully. At first she was filled with fear, in her stupor, thinking Rashleigh was returned and mounting the stairs.

But it resonated, louder, returning softly and quickly until she recognized it to be horse hooves thundering across the land.

They were loud and abruptly stopped. For a moment, she was still. And then, she leapt from the bed.