Читать книгу A Marriage in Middlebury - Anita Higman - Страница 13

Chapter 6

6

Father?” Sam hurried to Lucy’s side and looked through the open door into Mr. Wilder’s bedroom.

Lucy touched Sam’s arm. “He was gone before I could get to you. I knew you’d want to be with him in his last moments. I’m so sorry you missed saying good-bye.”

“It’s all right. I’d said my good-byes earlier.” Sam placed his arm around Lucy, and her weeping eased. “You’ve been very good to my father, very attentive. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucy said. “I wish I could have done more.”

Audrey wrapped her arms around both Sam and Lucy.

Charlotte moved back into the shadows of the hallway, wishing she was anywhere on earth but in that one spot. She hadn’t helped Mr. Wilder make his peace with the Lord, nor had she done anything to lighten Sam’s burden. In the end, Mr. Wilder’s news helped no one. It would do nothing but fester in her mind, like a wound that could never heal. If only Mr. Wilder had not asked her to come. If only. Once again, she would be living a life of “if onlys.”

Charlotte knew she shouldn’t feel sorry for herself. A man had just lost his battle with his own heart and had come to a tragic end.

In spite of her warning to keep her emotions under control, a renegade tear fell down her cheek and dripped onto her palm. She closed her hand on the tear. No more, Charlotte.

As the little huddle among Sam and Audrey and Lucy came to an end, Sam said, “Lucy, would you mind calling the Middlebury Funeral Home? I would really appreciate it.”

“Yes, of course.”

Sam handed Lucy his handkerchief.

“I’ll do it right now.” Lucy cleaned up her face and pulled a cell phone from her pocket.

Sam turned to Charlotte. “Do you mind if Audrey drives you back to the tearoom? I’m going to stay in my father’s room until they come.”

“That would be fine. Thank you. I’m so sorry about your father, Sam.” Charlotte wanted to say more, but the words would not come.

Sam gave her a weary but warm smile. “Thank you.” He disappeared into Mr. Wilder’s bedroom, and Audrey gestured to Charlotte that they could go.

Just as they’d made it to the end of the hallway, Lucy caught up with them. She pulled Charlotte to the side. “I want you to have this.” She placed her gold nursing pin into Charlotte’s palm. “No more. It ends today.”

“Are you sure?” Charlotte placed her hand over Lucy’s.

“I am.”

“Okay, but I’ll keep it safe just in case you ever have a change of heart.”

Lucy grinned, and it lit up her eyes through the tears. “You’re welcome to keep it in a safe place, but I feel lighter already. My smile feels so good . . . fits on me better than I remembered. See you later.”

“Bye.”

After Lucy had gone back toward Mr. Wilder’s room, and she was out of earshot, Audrey asked Charlotte, “What was that all about, between you and the nurse? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t think Lucy would want me to mention it, otherwise I’d—”

“No problem. I get it.” Audrey continued to walk toward the main living area with Charlotte close behind her. “I’m used to living around secrets.”

What could she mean?

Audrey skimmed her fingers along some of the artifacts as they made their way toward the front door. “We’ll have an estate sale soon.”

Charlotte didn’t add anything to Audrey’s declaration. Mr. Wilder’s body had not even been taken to the funeral home, so maybe it seemed a little premature to chat about estate sales.

Audrey swung open both double doors, closed her eyes against the dazzling sunlight, and breathed deeply. They were greeted not only by bright light but the doleful sound of mourning doves. “It’s like their funeral song for us.” She looked back at Charlotte as if to scrutinize her frame of mind, her level of grief. “You know, the more I got to know Mr. Wilder, the more I realized how dissimilar he was from Sam. Never could a parent and child be more different.

“That couldn’t be truer.”

Audrey made no more comment on the subject, but instead led Charlotte out of the house and locked the doors of the Wilder mansion behind them. The clunking of the internal parts and the deep rumble of the door going shut suggested closure and finality of every kind. There would be no more going back. No more woolgathering about Sam as her grandmother might have called it. What was in the past would remain there. But, Audrey was right. The doleful sound of mourning doves felt like a funeral song.