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She glanced back at the living room, searching the shadows for Jack. He was still standing by the window; she could see the outline of his torso against the pale curtains. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, call 911." "What?"She opened the door and went outside. Cold night air, thick with the scent of the sea, splashed her face and slid along her exposed neck. She clutched the robe tighter to her throat and stepped cautiously forward. Tired, whitewashed boards creaked beneath her feet.

She hobbled down the wide, covered porch that stretched along the front of the house. At the top step, she paused, waiting for the pain to melt once again into something she could manage.

She glanced around. Midnight blue shadows and black shapes surrounded her, all of them wreathed by ghostly split-rail fences. A huge, opalescent moon hung in the star-spangled sky. Below it, the Straits glittered like an endless. sheet of hammered steel, its surface rippled with moonlight. A row of shadowed, farmy-looking sheds led the way to a rickety, isolated old building that had to be the outhouse.

She clutched the wobbly handrail and slowly descended the few steps. By the final step, she was breathing heavily again. Pausing, she wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow and walked stiffly up the yard's grassy incline.

With each step, her stomach sank a little bit more. Wincing, trying not to breathe, she reached for the drawstring latch and opened the door. It swung on squeaky hinges and smacked hard against the wooden wall. The whole structure shuddered at the impact.

She peered inside, but couldn't see anything except a shower-sized, jet-black opening.

Cautiously she inched her way into the darkened stall. Night air immediately closed around her like black velvet. The expected odors curled around her throat, turned thick and ugly.

Clamping her lips together to keep from breathing, she lifted her nightgown and planted her bare behind on the cold wooden rim.

Suddenly the door banged shut, plunging her into tomblike darkness. Her imagination ran riot. She saw bugs and snakes and all kinds of nameless wild things creeping under the door and slithering toward her. Animal and night noises that any other time might sound whimsical and exciting, sounded ominous.

1873, she realized then, was not for sissies.

* * *

Savannah huddled under the thick blanket, her whole body shaking. She had a long-forgotten urge to suck her thumb again. She fisted her hand tightly and pressed it to her stomach. The unmistakable sounds of a parental fight crept beneath her door and hovered like a bad odor in the cramped room.

"Vannah? How come Daddy always yells about Johnny?"Savannah shrugged in the darkness. Her throat was too thick with unshed tears to say anything. But Katie didn't expect a response. They'd lived through this same scene too many times to expect much of anything from anyone.

"You think Daddy's okay?"

Savannah swallowed. "Yeah." The word slipped out on a tired breath, with no conviction.

Katie crawled out of bed. Her bare feet thumped on the hard wooden floor. "I'm gonna go peek."Savannah shoved her coverlet back and swung her stockinged feet out of bed. " 'Mere, Katie."Katie shuffled toward her sister and took her hand. Together they crept cautiously toward the door and eased it open.

Daddy was standing in front of the fire. In the yellow-red firelight, they could see the trembling in his hands, but other than that, he was as still as stone. His quick breathing sliced through the darkness.

Mama walked to the back door. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, call 911." "What?" Daddy yelled.

Mama ignored him and went outside. There was a minute of breath-laden silence, then Daddy swiveled away from the fireplace and started pacing. The loud thudding of his heels and the quickened tenor of his breathing filled the room, giving everything a dangerous edge.

"Damn you," he hissed into the darkness, "damn you."Spinning toward the wall, he drew his arm back and slammed his fist into the wooden wall.

Savannah flinched. Katie melted against her sister, making tiny mewling sounds of fear. Savannah clutched her midsection. The need to go to him, to touch him and tell him she loved him, was like a burning ache in her heart. She took a hesitant step forward, then froze. He wouldn't want her comfort. He never did.

"Damn you," he yelled again.

Savannah fought the sting of tears. In the quavering firelight, she saw the smear of blood on the wall, and the sight made her sick to her stomach.

Don't hurt yourself, Daddy, she prayed. She ain 't worth it.

Silently Savannah and Katie went back into their bedroom and shut the door. Crawling into bed together, they huddled close, drawing strength from each other. They didn't speak; there was nothing to say. It was a long time before either one of them stopped thinking about their daddy. And longer still before they fell into a fitful, troubled sleep.

The next morning Tess was wakened by a gurgling, mewling sound. Blinking tiredly, she pushed to a sit.

"I'm coming, Caleb," she said. Shoving the quilt back, she hobbled over to the cradle and cautiously picked him up.

"Morning, Caleb," she cooed, staring down into his pink, unbelievably cute face.

He blinked up at her and started crying. Tess felt a tremor of anxiety. Suddenly he didn't look so cute. He looked ... intimidating.

All at once, the magnitude of her responsibility hit Tess like a shot between the eyes. She was a mother now. A mommy. That was more than picking out clothes and reading stories and kissing downy cheeks. It was everything. His tiny, innocent life was in her hands.

A vague, formless fear bit into her self-confidence as she made her way back to the bed and crawled under the quilt. She swallowed thickly. Nothing in her solitary, isolated life had prepared her to take care of this baby. She was a doctor of microbiology, for God's sake, not a caretaker. She didn't know how to stop a baby from crying, and she had no time to learn. The responsibility of Caleb's life was hers. Now.

She wished to hell he'd come with an instruction book.

Timidly, Tess stroked the velvet-soft side of his face with fingers that were suddenly shaking and cold. "Shh, baby, shh ..." The words tumbled from her lips over and over again in a hypnotic, tranquil roll.

Except that Caleb was not hypnotized or tranquilized. His cry strengthened, took on an ear-shattering quality. His face turned an unattractive shade of red.

Her breasts started to tingle. Moisture gushed across the front of her nightgown, dampening the fabric. She unbuttoned her gown. The wet fabric fell open to reveal her naked breasts.

Tess took one look and screamed.

Startled by her outburst, Caleb sucked in his breath and stared up at her for a heartbeat. Then he squeezed his puffy eyelids shut and let out a banshee wail that set Tess's ears ringing.

The door flew open and cracked against the other wall. Jack barreled into the room. "What is it?" he panted.

Too horrified to be embarrassed, Tess pointed sickly at her chest. These couldn't be my breasts, she wanted to say. They couldn't be anyone's.

Jack stared at the Hall-of-Famer set of mammaries. "Y-You ready to be wrapped?" "Wrapped?""You know, to stop the milk flow.""Milk. Of course." Tess felt like an idiot for forgetting that a body that had just given birth would produce milk.

"I'll go get Savannah," he said, turning for the door.

"No! I don't want to be wrapped. I want to breast-feed him." "What?""It's well documented that mother's milk is full of necessary nutrients and antibodies." She smiled down at Caleb. Warmth spilled through her body, and for a second, she really felt like his mom.

"But, you've never ... nursed the kids."Tess shrugged. "How hard can it be?"An hour later, Tess had to admit it could be very difficult indeed.

Caleb was crying bloody murder, a high-pitched bleating sound that pinged up and down every vertebra and rattled in her head like an off-key rendition of "Jingle Bells." Jack was standing along the far wall, arms crossed across his chest, eyes riveted on the drama unfolding in the bed. He seemed completely unwilling to help in any way.

"Come on, Caleb," she murmured for the thousandth time, "let's try again." She eased him toward her left breast. He grabbed hold with both tiny hands and tried to suckle, but her breast was so hard and swollen, he couldn't latch on.

"Here you go, sweetie, try again." She curled Caleb in a new hold and pressed his face to her other breast. His mouth was a hairsbreadth from her swollen nipple.

Please, oh, please?

He screamed in frustration.

Tess felt like screaming right along with him. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Caleb became a squirming red blur with a gaping mouth.

Fear curled around her throat and made it difficult to draw a breath. She wouldn't be able to feed him. Oh, God, how would he live if she couldn't feed him?

Oh, God ...

"Are you all right?" Jack's quiet voice filtered through the fog of Tess's frustration and made her cry. Aching, soundless sobs that shook her entire body and parched her throat.

He moved to the end of the bed and stood there, waiting. "Amarylis?"She couldn't look at him. She felt so humiliated and afraid. No wonder God had never given her children in her previous life. She was useless as a mother.

He sat beside her. The tired old bed creaked, and the mattress buckled beneath his weight. Shaking and afraid, she looked up at him. "I can't do it. I can't ..." Tears clogged her throat until she couldn't speak. All she could do was sit there, helplessly staring at him.

"You don't have to."

"Please," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Help me ..."Surprise widened his eyes, and Tess knew instinctively that it had been a long time since Amarylis had asked for his help. She thought for a moment he was going to refuse, then quietly he said, "I'll get Savannah."He started to get up, and she grabbed his sleeve. He paused, turned toward her.

"Thanks." It was a watery, pitiful little word that didn't say nearly enough, and yet she couldn't push anything more past the huge lump in her throat.

"Sure," he answered stiffly. Then he was gone.

Tess sat there, holding the crying baby, crying herself, for what seemed like hours. Please, God, she prayed over and over again, don't let me be a failure as a mother. Please ...

Finally someone knocked at the door.

"C-Come in." She tried to yell the words but couldn't. They slipped past her lips as a tired sigh.

"Mama?" Savannah opened the door and poked her head around.

Tess bit her bottom lip to stop its trembling, and swiped the wetness from her cheeks. She tried to smile, and failed miserably.

Savannah came in the room carrying a metal bucket full of steaming water. Thick cotton towels were draped across her forearm like a maitre d' at a posh restaurant.

She set the bucket on the floor and sat down on the bed. Scooting close, she eased one of the towels off her arm and dropped it in the water. As she pulled the soaking rag out and efficiently twisted off the excess water, she frowned at her mother. "Daddy said you had a ... swelling problem."Tess would have burst out laughing if she hadn't been in so much pain. "You could say that.""Hot rags might help. We done that for Bessie last?" "Bessie?""You know ... the cow."Tess forced a weak smile.

"Anyhow, I done this on Bessie when her teats gummed up last spring. It worked good. Here, I'll just set these hot towels on your ... chest. There, like that."The hot rags brought immediate relief. Steam wafted upward, curled across Tess's nose, and plucked at the straggly curls of hair along her brow. Her milk released in a rush. The terrible, aching tautness began to lessen. She closed her eyes and let her head bang back against the wooden headboard.

Savannah bent closer. "Better?""Yes," she said shakily, "I think it's helping...."After about ten minutes and an equal number of towels, Tess felt like a new woman.

"Do you want to try feeding him now?"Savannah's voice eked through the almost hypnotic state Tess had slipped into. She smiled sleepily and lifted Caleb to her breasts. "Come on, baby Caleb, let's try again."This time Caleb latched on as if he'd been doing it all his life. His tiny fingers unfurled and planted themselves on either side of her breast. In the blink of an eye he became more than just the baby she'd been holding; he became a part of her.

Tess stared down at him and felt an emotion so big, so profound, she knew she'd never feel its like again. Awe, pride, humility, love, peace. The feeling filled her soul and lit it with brilliant, white-hot light. She got a hint?a fleeting glimpse?of what motherhood could be, and it made her ache with longing. She felt ... needed right now. Important. And not as a scientist with a brilliant mind, but as a human being. A person. It was a feeling she'd sought all her life, at first with desperation, and then with a nagging sense of despair.

She looked up suddenly at Savannah, eager to share this moment with someone.

The cold, guarded look in Savannah's eyes sliced through Tess's happiness. The words backed up in her throat, became a tangled mass. She closed her mouth.

Her joy bled away, turned into another aching sadness. All her life she'd waited to find someone with whom to share her joys and sorrows. Someone to love. And now here she was in the midst of the one thing she'd always sought?a family of her own?and she was more isolated and alone than ever.

She lowered her lashes to hide her disappointment. "Thanks."Savannah lurched to her feet. "I gotta go start dinner."She was halfway to the door before the words were even out of her mouth.

After she'd left, Tess stared at the closed door for a long time. It was older, with antique hinges and splintery wood, but it was still just another closed door between Tess and a family. She'd been looking at them all her life.

Hours later, Savannah stood at the kitchener, stirring the rabbit stew she'd made for dinner. Steam slipped through the cracks of the iron oven door, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of baking cottage bread. On the back burner, a heavy cast-iron pot full of slow-boiling water rumbled.