To Have and To Hold (17 page)

Chapter 16

Audrey's life now consisted of watching and waiting. She watched her father's health decline, and she waited for Marshall to find Ole Blue Lightning. She felt powerless to help either of them. In spite of reports that several men were spending each day searching for the man who could remove the dreaded curse, no one could report any success, and Marshall said he doubted the men were truly looking.

Audrey's father continued to assure her that he was prepared to die. Yet she wasn't so sure. He seemed to be holding on for some reason beyond her understanding. Though Dr. Wahler expressed surprise that her father continued to cling to life, Audrey was thankful for each extra hour with him.

The late afternoon sun glistened on the windowsill as Audrey drew a chair close to her father's bedside and grasped his hand. In spite of the warm, glowing embers in the fireplace, a cool clamminess pervaded his body. Bones left bare of muscle and fat protruded from beneath the pale skin that once stretched across broad shoulders. Shoulders that had balanced her high in the air as a little girl. Shoulders that had supported the weight of lumber and brick at construction sites. Shoulders that had sagged low with grief when her mother died.

Placing his hand beneath the covers, she brushed strands of hair from his forehead. His eyelids flickered, but instead of revealing his familiar sparkling gray eyes, she was met with a rheumy, glazed stare.

Her heart heaved with sorrow at the sight of him—a once strong and virile man brought to this low state.
Why, Lord? Why must he suffer so?
In spite of her best efforts to remain brave, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Don't cry for me, Audrey. I'm going to be just fine.”

She startled at the sound of his voice, surprised at his unexpected burst of strength. Did he truly believe he was going to be fine? Perhaps he was having one of those delusional episodes Dr. Wahler had mentioned several days ago. The ones that sometimes occurred shortly before death.

Audrey wasn't certain how to respond. She didn't want to destroy her father's will to live, but she was opposed to giving him false hope. Dr. Wahler had been honest with her: There was no cure for her father.

“I'm pleased to know that you're going to get well, Father, but . . .”

Wisps of hair fanned across her father's forehead as he moved his head back and forth. “I understand I'm not going to get well, Audrey. I was trying to tell you that I'm ready for death to come—ready to see your mother again, ready for heaven.” He wheezed as he inhaled a lungful of air.

“Don't try to talk, Father. It's too difficult.”

“I must talk. There are a few things I want to tell you before I die, so listen carefully.” His eyes fluttered at half-mast before he managed to once again hold them open.

“If it's easier, you can whisper.” She scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned close.

“I want you to marry and enjoy life. I don't want to die thinking you're going to turn into a withered old prune that lives the rest of her life alone, dressed in black, because she won't turn loose her heart.”

“I must say that you haven't lost your way with words. If that statement doesn't convince me to seek a husband, I don't know what will.” Audrey grinned at him and shook her head.

“I'm serious about this, Audrey. I want you to promise me that you'll open your heart to the love of a good man.” With a trembling hand, he clasped her arm.

She placed her hand atop his and looked into his eyes. “If a good man can be found, then you have my word that I will open my heart to love.”

Her father shifted beneath the covers, grimacing against the pain. “Don't be foolish, Audrey. You've been surrounded by good men. Open your eyes, along with your heart, and you'll see the love that waits for you.” He panted and gave soft moaning sounds as he exhaled. “Don't live . . . without love.”

Her father's eyes drifted closed, and he slipped into a restless sleep. She touched his cheek then leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes.

“God, I hate to see him suffer. . . . Please ease his pain.”

Audrey didn't know how long she'd been sleeping when Dr. Wahler tapped her on the shoulder. “You should go and get some rest. I've examined him, and it appears he's slipped into what may be a permanent state of unconsciousness. Although he may awaken. I've seen it before, and he's already lived much longer than I'd expected.” He helped her to her feet. “I'll stay with your father for a while.”

Her gaze settled on her father, his complexion almost as white as the sheet that covered him. “No. I want to—”

“I'm the doctor, Audrey. You need your rest, or you'll be no good to yourself or to your father. Please go and rest. I promise to come and get you if there's any change in his condition.”

She hesitated for only a moment. “If you promise.”

Dr. Wahler's reassurance was all she needed. After kissing her father on the cheek, Audrey took halting steps toward the stairway. She'd gone only a short distance when she turned around. “You promise to send for me if there's any change?”

He waved her onward. “I've already given you my promise. Please. Get some rest.”

She trudged down the steps and into her room, Dr. Wahler's promise fresh in her thoughts. While she loosened the collar of her dress and removed her shoes, she recalled the promise she'd made to her father a short time ago. What men had he been speaking of? Had he meant Marshall or perhaps Dr. Wahler? Certainly the doctor was a good man—one who was capable of love. He demonstrated love to his children every day, and from all accounts, the doctor had loved his wife. And she knew her father admired Marshall. Was he thinking of him? The house was filled with men—had he been referring to one of them? She wanted to consider the matter, perhaps even question him further when she returned upstairs. But for now, even the clatter of pots and pans in the nearby kitchen couldn't keep her awake.

“Audrey, wake up.” Irene leaned close to her ear. “Doc says to hurry.”

Not even bothering with her shoes, Audrey jumped from the bed and dashed to the stairs. She came to her father's room and spied the doctor and Marshall standing near the bedside. Not a word was spoken, but one look told her she was too late. Her father was dead.

Dr. Wahler extended his hand. “I'm sorry, my dear. He was stable, and then his breathing grew shallow and his heart slowed. I sent Irene as quickly as I could.”

“Did he . . . did he wake up?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“No. He passed quite easily.”

“I should have been here,” Audrey said, reaching out to touch her father's peaceful face. She had wanted to be with him at the end, to hold his hand, smooth his brow, and express her love for him one last time. Grief assailed her, both for the loss of her father and for the lost opportunity to be with him in his final hour.

An invisible band wrapped around her chest and cut off her breath. A strangled cry escaped her lips and tears rolled down her cheeks. Gasping, she turned and met Marshall's eyes. He stepped toward her just as her knees gave way and the room went dark.

Waking up some time later, Audrey heard Thora issuing instructions. “Bring the smelling salts—she's been too long in this faint. It will cause her brain fever if we're not careful.”

“I assure you, Miss Audrey will not get brain fever. She's simply had a shock,” Dr. Wahler explained. “It's best to let her recover gradually. When she awakens—”

“I'm awake,” Audrey said, attempting to sit up. Someone had placed her in bed. Marshall, no doubt. He had been the one nearest to her when she'd collapsed.

“You oughten to be sitting,” Thora declared, pushing her back against the pillows. “Too much strain on your heart.”

“My heart is broken at the loss of my father,” Audrey said and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Otherwise it continues to beat just fine.” She wasn't about to add that perhaps it would be better had it stopped along with her father's. Such talk would be misinterpreted, and before she knew it, Thora would have her drinking healing concoctions and tied to the bedpost.

“I'm sorry for making a scene,” she said, looking at Dr. Wahler. “I've never been one given to fainting spells.”

“Never had this many Yankees at Bridal Fair, either,” Thora said in a huff.

Audrey ignored her. “I need to ready Father's body for burial.”

“Don't you worry about that,” Thora declared. “Irene and me, we can manage.”

It was the first time Thora had suggested she could work at ease with the younger girl. Audrey was too tired to argue. “He'll wear his blue suit. I'll brush it—”

Thora held up her hand. “Already bein' done.” She put a hand to her back and shuffled to the door. “I've done my share of burial preparations. I can do this for all of you.”

Audrey looked at Dr. Wahler and then around the room. The doctor smiled. “Mr. Graham is helping Irene. I believe he felt a . . . brotherly . . . responsibility. Mr. Cunningham was quite dear to him, it would seem.”

Nodding, Audrey thought of Marshall's kindness to her father—to all of them. “He's a good man,” she murmured, her eyes widening as the words spilled out. “A good man.”

As they prepared for her father's funeral, Audrey couldn't help but take note of the many good men in her company. The kind words and deeds of the men—both their boarders and the ones who lived in the old slave quarters—were clear proof of their attributes.

One of the carpenters constructed her father's coffin, and she was amazed by his dogged determination to create something beautiful as a final tribute. Men came to the house with bouquets of fall flowers that continued to bloom in spite of Audrey's sorrow. They dug the grave and placed some of Aunt Thora's toad lilies, colorful pansies, and some of her beloved rockets of yellow ligularia near the gravesite. And there wasn't one complaint from Aunt Thora.

Pastor Nichols arrived from Biscayne to conduct the funeral. Audrey stood stock-still, Marshall on one side of her and Aunt Thora on the other, while Pastor Nichols offered the final prayer.

“And to you, Father in heaven, we give honor and praise. We thank you and celebrate the life of this man, Boyd Cunningham. We ask your blessing on his beloved daughter and on the friends who have gathered here today. Let us go now in your grace. Amen.”

“Amen,” the crowd murmured.

The word stuck in Audrey's throat. It was too final. Like reading
The End
on the last page of a book. She looked at her father's closed coffin, knowing he was inside, but also knowing it wasn't really him at all. His spirit—the very heart and soul of this man whom she loved—was gone. Life would never be the same.

While Audrey was thankful for the preacher's eulogy, it was his kindness afterward that spoke to her heart. He remained for several hours and spoke of his conversations with her father. “He loved you very much, Audrey. More than anything, I know your father wanted you to find a good husband and be happy. Even more, you have the assurance of knowing that you'll be together again one day. For those who know the Lord, there is great comfort.” He patted her hand. “You're going to be just fine, Audrey.” He tapped his fingers against his chest. “I can feel it right here.”