“Oh, God, no….,” he breathed, touching the little face, looking for any sort of movement. There was none. Grief swept him. “Oh, God, no!”
His shout was heard throughout the entire abbey. De Tormo and the prioress threw open the door to Remington’s room, but he barked them away savagely. They barely had time to back off when he was kicking the door closed, shaking the entire structure like an earthquake. He clutched the baby to his chest tightly, finding that he did indeed have more tears to spare, and wept loudly for his daughter.
“Gaston?” came a weak voice. “Gaston?”
Startled, he looked up to see Remington focusing on him. Her eyes were huge pools in her white face, and he could see they were full of concern. “Gaston, do not cry. Come here, my love.”
It was far too much for him to take; he came apart. He fell to his knees, crawling the length of the room until he reached her bed. His sobs were deep and unbridled as he buried his face on Remington’s chest, still holding the babe and feeling Remington’s feeble hand on his head.
Remington was so weak she could barely move. She had heard his sobs at a distance until gradually, she had comearound. It did not matter that she was on her deathbed and could barely move; what mattered was that Gaston was crying and she had to comfort him. She shushed him softly.
“Do not cry, my love,” she whispered thickly.
“Oh, Remi,” he sobbed. “Do not die, too.”
“I won’t, I promise,” she breathed. “You came just in time.”
He choked on an ironic guffaw, raising his head to look at her. “I was so foolish, angel. I let our argument go on and….”
She stilled him with a weak hand. “No more. ’Twas my fault and I am sorry. I never stopped loving you, Gaston. I said…hateful things. Forgive me.”
He kissed her eagerly, shakily, still sobbing. “I love you, Remi. You had every right to be angry with me. Please…oh, God, please….” He trailed off again, unable to continue.
She touched his head as it rested on her chest. She had not been so dazed that she had not seen the bundle in his arms. And she understood his words.Do not die, too.Her heart was twisting with grief.
“Arica?” she whispered.
He struggled to gain control of himself, lifting his head off her, still clutching the babe fiercely. “She… wasn’t alone, Remi. I held her the entire time. She was here, with us.”
Remington was too weak to cry, but the anguish gnawed at her with excruciating force. She closed her eyes, reaching out a feeble hand to touch the swaddling. “Give her to me.”
He laid the babe next to her and Remington put her frail arms about the bundle, holding it close to her bosom. A lone tear trickled from the sea-crystal eyes. Gaston stood over the two of them, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, wishing he could make the grief and sorrow go away. He had never felt so utterly helpless!
“She was too small,” Remington finally whispered. “Too small.”
“I know,” he smoothed her forehead with his trencher-sized hand.
She stared at the still babe a long while before turning her head to him, her eyes unnaturally bright against her pale face. “Are you all right? De Tormo said you went to war again.”
He was back on his knees, wrapping his arms about the two of them. “I am fine. I thought of you every minute, every day. Ever since we fought, I have thought of nothing but you.”
“You are a duke now,” she whispered. “I am so proud of you, Gaston.”
“It means nothing,” he whispered back, pressing his face to her shoulder. “You mean everything. You and our children.”
“How is Adeliza?” she asked.
“Fine,” he replied, a bit of hope in his voice. “She’s a loud little magpie. Screams like a banshee.”
Remington smiled weakly. “I know. I heard her.”
He did not want to talk anymore for the moment. He only wanted to hold the two of them, feeling Remington’s life in his arms. He could do nothing more for Arica, and he felt the loss to his bones.
Suddenly, they both heard a weak cry. At the same time, they turned to the swaddled bundle in Remington’s arms, only to see the tiny little mouth open again and cry like a kitten.
“Dear God….” Gaston breathed.
“She’s not dead, Gaston!” Remington declared with as much excitement as she could muster. Weak, shaking hands began unwrapping the swaddling. “Look. She’s moving!”
