“Stop this, now. Ye saved me. Ye gave me reasons ta live. Everythin’ I’ve done, I did outta love and thanks. Everythin’ is as it was supposed ta be. I see it all so clearly now. No questions and doubts. Love is eternal. When we die we don’t take our love away. My death is not the end of my life or my love.”
“How do ye know that? How can I be sure ye’ll never really leave me? What if I end up an old bitter man like Scrooge and then what? Wait fer ye to haunt me in my sleep and make me see myself through the eyes of me self-centered existence? I can’t even let go of yer hand because I know once I do…” He inhaled deeply to catch his breath between sobs. “I know once I do, ye’ll be gone.”
He had no sooner lowered his head on her again, awaiting the comfort of her hand upon it, when he felt it instead on his shoulder. Startled, he rose up and spun around. Rachel stood there, smiling down at him. A soft white glow radiated from her and the cold room turned into the warmth of spring.
“I know because I’ve been gone since ye took me hand.”
Rachel took his chin between her thumb and forefinger, turning his head from left to right. “Ye’re a brave boy there, aren’t ye?”
Owen leaned back away from her and turned to find the emaciated, pale, white-haired figure lying peacefully in the bed. He gazed down at his hand, still clasped around hers, and released it slowly, taking great care not to disturb her in any way.
“Ye see? I’m still here. I knew ye’d need proof,” she said and smiled. “Ye always need proof. Perhaps now ye’ll find yer faith and believe that just because ye can’t see or touch, doesn’t mean somethin’ isn’t real. There’ll be no such hauntin’,” she said laughing. “And ye’ll never be bitter. Yer life will be sweet and filled with joy.”
“Where’s the proof I’ll be able to live through this without bitterness?” he asked, rising to his feet.
“The proof is in knowin’ ye made me the happiest mother alive. There’s nothin’ ta regret, no words unsaid, no deed undone. Yer ready, son. Yer ready for the rest a yer life. Go live it. I’ll always be here. Just call out ta me and I’ll hear ye.”
“Ye look like the day I first laid eyes on ye.” He sighed.
“Ye have always looked to me like that very same day. I love ye like tomorrow won’t ever come but my tomorrows in the flesh are all gone. All that’s left for me is this moment and I have ta go.”
“No, wait! Please!”
“Is everything alright in here?” Mae said, pushing the door open. “Mrs. Whelan? Is Mrs. Whelan…?”
“Mae, what’s…” Kathryn rushed into the room behind Mae.
Owen nodded and both women screeched in grief and rushed to the bed, falling to their knees and praying for her soul. Owen walked to the settee and prayed with them.
“How long has she been gone?” Kathryn sniffled, blotting her tears on the sleeve of her nightgown.
Owen raised his head and watched as Rachel faded into the air like a wisp of pipe smoke. “Only moments before ye came in,” he answered, pulling one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs from his pants pocket and handing it to his Aunt.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Owen decided he would not recall Rachel’s death on Christmas but rather only that she left his life that night for another. Over time, he managed to find the strength to allow Mae to pack up all of Rachel’s things and redecorate her room, calling upon his aunt for guidance as he hadn’t the slightest taste in décor. By early spring, Rachel’s beautiful garden was blooming with the largest, most vibrant roses he’d ever seen and he took to having his breakfast in the sun room, just so he could enjoy the fragrant flowers and the view from her favorite spot.
Kathryn decided a young bachelor should not be left to his own devices and convinced Owen to invite her to move in permanently to take care of him.
“Ye need a woman’s touch around here, Nephew. I hope ye don’t mind dogs but I assure ye mine are pedigree and very well behaved.”
Owen sat back at the small wrought iron patio table sipping his tea, thoroughly enjoying his Aunt’s conversation, although he barely heard much of it due to his daydreams. The familiar tone and lilting vowels gave him comfort, regardless of what she was saying. He could still see Rachel in the garden, beautiful but frail in her hat and gloves. He could yet hear her soft laughter and see her eyes flash up at him as he watched through the wall of glass. His thoughts drifted back and forth, recalling moments late in the evening when Rachel shared her days with him. His guilt lingered in those moments. The bits and pieces he’d bothered to listen to in between his own ramblings were peerless to him now, even something as minimal as how Kathryn had educated her in pruning rose bushes.
“I’ll have all of my things brought down this weekend, Owen. Oh, and I’ll need you to hire a large wagon for me and a few strong young gentlemen to assist.”
“Aye, Aunt Kathryn, by all means. Simply give them my name and I’ll settle with them when they’ve finished settin’ ye up. I’m off ta the hospital. Have a lovely day,” Owen said, leaning over to kiss his Aunt on her upturned cheek.
By nightfall, she was already completely moved in and tucked into her new spacious room down the hall from him. Rachel’s room was smaller, as she had refused the larger room, citing she barely needed half as much space. Owen allowed Kathryn to make it into a guest room, as well as the other empty bedroom which Mae no longer required. Owen released her and secured a job for her at the hospital. It was a waste of her talents to be a house maid and he’d requested his aunt hire someone else.
Kathryn was possessed by a desire to bring the house into order, spending day after day preening the stately home as if preparing for a visit from President Fillmore. Owen was beginning to wonder what his aunt’s real motives were but by mid-summer, she sprang the news on him at dinner that her old and dear friend Elizabeth had mailed her with the exciting news that she, her husband and her daughter, were coming to America.
“Oh, Owen, we’ve more than enough room for them here, wouldn’t ye agree?”
“Whatever makes ye happy, Aunt Kathryn. I’m away most of the day anyway. Ye’ll need ta hire more help to tend to the extra work, so please do that as well.”
Owen looked upon this to be a new adventure and since he hadn’t met anyone fresh from Ireland in quite a while, his curiosity got the better of him. Although he looked forward to their house guests with equal parts anticipation and unease, he was a little apprehensive about having a teenager in the house, and a girl at that, but since he’d only have to interact with her at breakfast and possibly supper, he shrugged it off. After all, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
By the first of August, the Jameson’s arrival was days away and Kathryn had spared no expense of Owen’s money—as well as some of her own to make sure they felt at home. Owen purchased a fine coach and even hired a driver because of his aunt’s busy schedule with the Ladies League of Central Philadelphia and their charitable works. At first he balked at the idea of such luxury but Kathryn constantly reminded him of his responsibility as a doctor to be mobile. Riding in style was just the right thing to do.
Kathryn was never happier and to Owen, she was more lively and amiable as each day passed. She still went about putting on airs for strangers as she’d always done yet somehow, almost everything she said was the honest truth. Her honesty evolved from no longer having to cover for anyone and paint pictures of roses where there was nothing but thorns.
“Owen, isn’t it thrillin’! My dear Elizabeth will be arrivin’ this afternoon! Oh, do please be home by supper, won’t ye?” She scooted in and out of the sun room, placing vases of fresh bouquets on clean doilies throughout.
“I’ll do me very best,” he replied, taking his last bite of a muffin and washing it down with his tea.
“It’s very warm today. Ye should take the carriage.”
“I just may do that,” Owen said with a wink, knowing he’d still have the carriage driver let him out at the park so he could walk the last ten
minutes to the hospital.
As always, Kathryn raised her cheek for her morning peck and received it with a smile. Owen was no sooner out the door than she was prancing about the house, directing the two newly hired maids and complaining repeatedly about the late summer heat. However, even the weather did not dampen her spirits nearly as much as her brisk movements dampened her gown.
“Girls, look at the time! I must be off to meet the Jameson’s. Expect us in time for supper.” Kathryn grabbed her hand bag, fan and parasol and bounded for the door. She advised the young maids to go through the house one final time and then hurry into the kitchen to assist the new cook with a meal suited for royalty.
Kathryn awaited the Jameson’s in the carriage, holding her parasol in her lap and occasionally fanning herself in the heat. The carriage driver stood watch, waiting for the ship’s passengers to exit the gate.
“Do ye see them yet, Martin?” she called out.
“Not yet, madam. However, a large number of passengers are beginning to make their way up the pier.”
Kathryn poked her head out of the carriage window and stretched her neck as far as she could without knocking the large, plum-colored hat from atop her head. Her eyebrows raised and her parasol fell from her hands as she struggled to open the door upon having seen who she believed to be Elizabeth Jameson making her way slowly up the dock.
“Martin! Martin! Release me from this trap!” she cried out.
Martin dashed to the carriage door and pulled on the handle, nearly pulling Kathryn from her seat. She sprinted down the pier to meet her oldest and dearest friend.
“Elizabeth!” she called out. She was forced to stop at the roped off area where the passengers checked in before passing through into Philadelphia. She waved her fan high above her head to attract Elizabeth’s eye.
“Kathryn! We’ll be there shortly, dear!” Elizabeth called back.
A young man pulled a cart loaded with trunks and boxes toward the carriage and spoke to Martin, who upon seeing the load asked, “Will your friends be staying indefinitely Mrs. Doyle?”
“Don’t be impertinent. Go and secure a wagon and have their belongin’s brought up to the house.”
Kathryn threw open her arms and took her friend in tight. After several moments, they held hands and admired each other over tearful laughter. Kathryn found Mister Jameson to be quite a fine gentleman who, although a bit older than her friend and not quite her height, was as pleasant and well-dressed a man as she had ever seen. Their beautiful yet brooding daughter left a great deal to be desired by way of any charm. Kathryn was greeted by Sarah with only a polite hand shake and a curtsey, leaving her disappointed since she’d every intention of a warm embrace to welcome the girl she’d admired from afar.
When they reached Owen’s house, the elder Jamesons inquired immediately as to his whereabouts.
“Oh, my dears, have no fear,” Kathryn reassured them as she led them on a tour of the home. “Owen will be here in time for dinner. He gave me his word and to him, his word is his bond.”
“Ye’ll be in this room, dear,” she said to Sarah, pushing open a large cream colored door trimmed in golden molding.
“If ye’ll please excuse me.” Sarah immediately stepped inside and closed the door.
“We’ll sort through our things and have yers sent up soon, darlin’,” Elizabeth spoke through the door, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed. “I must apologize for my daughter. She was obviously exhausted and well—not pleased with havin’ to leave Ireland. Ye know, friends and such.”
“Think nothin’ of it, Lizzy–I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I’m sure the girl is exhausted.”
“I for one could most certainly use a little nap myself. I don’t blame the child a bit.” William laughed and glanced sheepishly at his wife. Sarah, as always, could never do wrong in his eyes.
“Then a nap ye shall have. This will be yer room.” Kathryn pushed open a second door and glided inside with her guests following behind her. “I do hope ye approve.”
“Oh Kathryn, it’s positively lovely. Did ye decorate it?” Elizabeth inquired.
“That I did. This room belonged to Mae, who was the nurse to my dear sister Rachel, God rest her soul. None of the rooms had been refreshed in any way when my nephew purchased the home but the poor thing barely had time to eat or sleep with keepin’ a doctor’s schedule and tendin’ to a sick mother.” Kathryn stood with her head lowered, shaking it slightly from side to side.
“Well, he is truly blessed to have ye, Kathryn.” Elizabeth removed her hat and gloves and set them on the dresser.
“Why don’t ye join me in the sun room for a cool drink while William rests, and we can catch up where we left off in our letters?”
“Sounds perfect, dear. William, we’ll wake ye for dinner,” Elizabeth said, and followed Kathryn out of the room. They enjoyed a cool glass of lemonade and a light snack of fresh fruit while Kathryn brought Elizabeth up to date on the tragic and untimely death of her younger sister. Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes lightly and reached out and held Kathryn’s hand as she spoke. As with all true friends, within the hour the ladies were back in Ireland, reminiscing on their childhood days together and reminding each other of cherished memories and long lost youth.
Engrossed in their past, Kathryn paid no mind to the hour until she overheard Owen’s voice speaking to Anne Marie, one of the new house maids, inquiring on her whereabouts.
“In here, Owen,” Kathryn called out, rising to her feet.
“There ye are, dear Aunt, and this must be the lovely Mrs. Jameson I’ve heard so much about.” Owen swirled his words gracefully, drawing a wide smile and a bow from Elizabeth as he took her hand and bowed in turn.
“Such a pleasure to make yer acquaintance at last, Dr. Whelan, I certainly hope our arrival didn’t steal ye away from yer patients.”
“Certainly not, I was relieved by a new young physician fresh out of school and I was happy to allow it.” Owen smiled infectiously, which pleased his aunt beyond words.
“Why don’t I go check on dinner and leave ye two to get familiar?” Kathryn picked up the two empty glasses and strolled off to the kitchen.
“I trust yer voyage was uneventful, Mrs. Jameson?” Owen asked, waving his hand for her to have a seat.
“But for a wee bit a sea sickness for the first couple of weeks, it was not altogether terrible.” She laughed as did Owen.
“My home is yer home fer as long as ye like.”
“Yer hospitality is greatly appreciated Owen dear, and what a lovely home ye have.”
“Well, ye can thank yer old friend Kathryn fer that. I go to work and I come home. She takes care of everythin’ else. I can assure ye it was quite a transition.”
“Transition?” Elizabeth queried.
“Aye, transition from the small house I shared with me Ma to this museum. Now don’t take this the wrong way but I’ve never given much of a care about draperies and flowers, havin’ spent the past four years either in school or tendin’ to patients. Bein’ a bachelor, I’m sure if it weren’t for me aunt, I’d be in a one room flat eatin’ tea and biscuits seven days a week.” Owen let out a burst of laughter that Elizabeth reciprocated.
“Elizabeth, look who I found explorin’ the library,” Kathryn said, leading Sarah by the arm into the sun room.
“Did ye have a good rest, dear?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, mother, it was—restful,” Sarah answered, not once giving Owen so much as a glimpse.
Owen had risen to his feet immediately upon hearing his aunt’s voice, and even bowed to the young Miss Jameson, offering her his chair. The room grew tense, which caused Kathryn to speak in short bursts of praise for Sarah and her talents at the piano and then of Owen’s academic accomplishments and then dashing again from the room to check on dinner.
“Have ye any horses here?” Sarah inquired.
“Only the two for the carriage, but if ye’d like a tour, Miss Jameson, I‘d be more than happy ta…”
“Missus Jameson, will Mister Jameson be joinin’ us for dinner? Our cook is the best. I’d hate ta see a grown man miss one of her fine meals.” Owen kidded, patting his lean stomach.
“Well, Doctor Whelan, it certainly appears ye do not overindulge.” She blushed, and everyone but Sarah laughed. “Mother,” Sarah remarked, lowering her head.
“It’s quite alright. I’ll admit I don’t often make dinner a priority but when I do, I certainly make up fer lost time.” He smiled.
“I’ll just run along and fetch William from his nap and see ye both at dinner,” Elizabeth said, rising precariously from her chair and leaving Owen and Sarah alone.
“Miss Jameson, may I ask if ye’re feelin’ well?”
“Why would ye ask such a thing?” Sarah snapped, crossing her arms.
“I hope ye don’t mind me sayin’ so, but ye look a bit pale and unsteady.” Owen moved and stood across the table from her. “May I?” he asked, pulling out the chair. She nodded once and then looked the other way.
“Ahhh, now I see the trouble,” he said, staring at her face from chin to forehead and then resting at her eyes as they fixed on his.
“What trouble? There is no trouble.”
“Ye’ve blue eyes.”
“So? Are blue eyes an affliction in this…this Philadelphia, Doctor?” She leaned back from him even further and folded her arms ever tighter.
“Only when such pretty blue eyes are screwed inta such an angry head. Now why don’t ye stop with this and try ta make the best of it, lass.”
“How dare ye speak to me this way?” she shot back, her posture flexed and her face flushed.
“How dare I indeed.” He chuckled. “Perhaps someday I’ll tell ye what earned me the right.” Owen stood and straightened his coat, looking down at the top of Sarah’s shiny black hair as it swept like the wings of a raven across the sides of her head and back into a nest of neatly woven curls. He studied it for a moment, pretending to check his pocket watch for the time.
Hope from the Ocean: (The Prequel to Fireflies ) Page 22
