Page 12 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)

CHAPTER 12

~ HAUNTED ~

Morning found me awake, heartbroken and horrified by what I had done. Every time I drifted into sleep, the image of the tiny skeleton flashed through my mind, jolting me awake. I should have listened to Alex, to the doctor, to Zaira. But ‘I should have’ were the saddest words. I couldn’t turn back time. The shame of disturbing my son’s remains would haunt me for the rest of my days. Not to mention the unanswered question: Had he died of natural causes or had Mrs. White killed him? I’d never know.

A tap on the door broke my thoughts. I grabbed my watch from the nightstand—nine o’clock. I’d lingered in bed longer than usual, but honestly, I had little energy or desire to face the day. Succumbing to self-pity was more appealing.

The knock came again.

I sat up. “Come in.”

The doorknob rattled, but the door didn’t budge.

I forgot I’d locked it, a habit I’d picked up courtesy of Mrs. White’s shenanigans. “Give me a second.”

I threw on my robe, turned the key, and pulled open the door.

Eldad stood in the corridor, his bright eyes staring up at me.

My frustration and despair vanished in an instant. I smiled. “Good morning.”

“I’ve been waiting to gather vegetables with you. Why are you taking so long?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot about it.”

“Hurry, then. Mrs. Haywood won’t let me go by myself. She says she doesn’t want raw courgette in her soup.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what she means.”

I suppressed a laugh. “I’ll get ready and meet you in the library in ten minutes. All right?”

With a grin, he skipped down the corridor, happily sliding his thumbs up and down his suspenders.

I watched him go. He was a gift from heaven.

* * *

The sound pierces my ears, jarring me awake. As the haze of sleep dissipates, it becomes clear: the bells of the Breamore church pealing through the night. I know it’s too far from the manor to hear it. Yet, its sharp, insistent chime demands that I answer its call.

I spring out of bed, trudge down the staircase, and cross moonlit fields. Then I plunge into the pitch-black woods. The ground is sodden, my feet sink with every step. Branches scratch and tear at my skin. I lift my arms to shield myself, but the forest fights back; here and there, its thorns draw blood. Still, I press on.

At last, I break through the trees. It has taken me years to reach this place. Years.

The moonlight highlights the church; the bells continue to ring. I push through the door, and the sound ceases, the summons complete. The pews, organ, and lectern are gone, the hall empty. Ancient chandeliers spill their light onto a rising mist.

I step farther in and gasp at the blood, and filth on my white nightgown. I am battered and worn. Then, like a storm lifting, the mist swirls around me. When it clears, I am transformed—my wounds healed, my skin unblemished. My gown gleams with a brilliance I have never known, as if imbued with divine light.

At the end of the hall, a young man emerges. With a breathtaking smile, he shortens the distance. We throw our arms around each other.

“It’s all right. I’m all right,” he says. It’s as if we’ve never been apart. Serenity washes over me, and my heart fills with the eternal love that binds mother and son. “Welcome home, Mum! We are together at last!”

I woke with a muffled cry. The dream was still vivid, but my son’s face had been erased from my recollection.

* * *

Dr. Jones’s funeral was well attended, a testament to the countless lives he’d touched and blessed. I was fortunate to have known him and benefitted from his wisdom. Wherever his spirit currently resided, I prayed he’d never learn of my folly at the cemetery that night—a night I did my best to forget. Thankfully, Zaira hadn’t brought it up. While silence wouldn’t erase my wrongdoing, it gave me space to process it and, hopefully, forgive myself.

After a night of wrestling with these thoughts, I joined the Women’s Institute volunteers. Gathering at dawn, the group broke from its routine by mending mountains of men’s clothing to send back to the army. I hadn’t sewn for ages, so despite the thimble on my thumb, I managed to accumulate more than my share of puncture wounds. Thus, immersed in serving and the sting of needles, the day passed in a blur.

By the time Mrs. Martindale, the group’s supervisor, dropped me off at home, the sun had slipped below the horizon. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s Doctor Wales’s car.” She pulled up behind a gray vehicle parked in the courtyard. “Is someone unwell?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” My mind raced as I stepped out of the car. I did not like illness. It was unpredictable and vengeful. “Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Martindale. I’ll see you next week.”

I dashed straight to the kitchen in search of information.

Zaira looked up at me from the range cooker, her face tight with worry. “Thank goodness you are home. I was about to ring the institute.”

“What’s happened? Is the doctor here?”

“Yes. We called him this afternoon.” Zaira poured steaming water into the coffee pot. “Rose and Mary developed high fevers and are struggling to breathe. They are quite sick.”

“With what?”

“Diphtheria,” she informed somberly. “The doctor has isolated them in the far bedroom of the wing. He’s also brought in a couple of nurses to help and laid out strict rules to prevent the spread of the disease. So, don’t even think about checking on the girls.”

No. Not the children. I went numb. Memories of New York’s diphtheria outbreak flooded back—the brutal disease attacked the upper respiratory tract with a randomness as merciless as it was unpredictable. Three of my classmates at Higher Grounds and several nuns had been struck by it; some were bedridden for weeks, while others lost their lives. To make matters worse, scientists were close—but not close enough—to finalizing a vaccine.

“How are the girls doing now?” My heart ached for them.

“Last I heard, not great.”

“How did they get it?”

“Mr. Haywood is convinced it came from the folks who come for produce,” she answered.

“It’s possible, especially when the children haven’t been to town much.”

Zaira placed the coffee pot and sugar dish on a tray. “For the doctor and nurses.”

“Please, let him know I’d like to speak to him.”

With a nod, Zaira left. I dropped into a chair, the wheels in my head turning. How else could I help the girls?

* * *

I paced the drawing room. What could be taking the doctor so long?

“Florence! Florence!” Eldad burst into the room.

I knelt, and he ran into my outstretched arms. It felt wonderfully good to see him. Every moment we spent together mended the fractured pieces of my heart a little more. “How are you today?”

“Good.” He stepped back, twisting a lock of my hair around his fingers. “How are you?”

“Better now.”

“You were gone all day.”

“I helped the ladies in town to mend the soldiers’ clothing. What did you do?”

“Well, I played with my friends, helped Martha cook a fruitcake, and finished the homework that Zaira gave me.”

“A busy day, I see.” I ruffled his hair. “I must say, your English is almost perfect.”

“Thank you.” He beamed with pride. “When are going to read?”

“When are we going to read?’” I corrected.

He frowned. “You said my English is perfect.”

“No, I said almost perfect,” I teased. “Tell me, which book do you have in mind?”

Before Eldad could answer, Dr. Wales appeared at the open door, tapping lightly to announce his presence. Standing six feet tall with piercing green eyes, a navy suit, and a radiant smile, the man was stunning.

“Please, come in,” I invited.

“He helps my friends.” Eldad pointed at him.

I gently lowered his hand. “Yes, he does. Now, be a dear and run along to your room and get ready for bed. We’ll read after I chat with the doctor. Yes?”

“All right.” Though reluctant, Eldad kissed my cheek, and off he went.

“Mrs. Sterling, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Doctor Wales.” He extended his hand, holding mine for a moment too long. When he made a move to kiss it, I pulled back. “I’ve heard much about you. You hail from New York? I’ve never been there—but no doubt, it’s beautiful—beautiful indeed.” His tone hinted at familiarity, and I sensed at once he was unattached—a man in need of proper boundaries and restraint.

“I do. Please have a seat.” I gestured toward the sofa, resolving to keep our interaction professional.

“I prefer to stand.”

“How are the girls?” I remained on my feet as well.

“Not well, I’m afraid.” The sparkle in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a serious expression. “If there is no improvement within a few hours, I’ll have no choice but to insert intubation tubes to keep their airways open.”

Intubation sounded brutal. “There must be something more we can do. Should we take them to London?”

“I don’t see why we would. Rest assured, I’m administering the latest treatments available. It’s a matter of time now—to see how well their bodies respond to the medicine.” He strode to the window, his gaze pensive as he stared beyond the glass. “Besides, the hospitals in London are bursting at the seams with injured soldiers. Transporting them would expose others to the bacteria, which spreads aggressively fast.”

His assessment, sound and measured, quelled my doubts about his competence. I felt a growing sense of trust in his care for the children.

Still gazing into the darkened garden, he continued, “There is something you should keep in mind . . .”

“Tell me.” I joined him at the window.

“Diphtheria can be lethal even for the healthiest among us,” he said. “The girls have been through significant physical trauma. While they’ve regained some health recently, there are lingering signs of osteomalacia—weak bones that cascade into other complications. The next forty-eight hours are the most critical.”

The unsaid verdict—their bodies might not have what it took to win this battle. How would the close-knit group react if we lost the girls? After so much loss, this felt like an injustice past bearing.

“I’ll pray for a miracle,” I said.

“Pray hard.”

* * *

The pitter-patter of small feet I’d come to cherish echoed through the halls of Forti Radici. “Come, come, Florence.” Eldad tugged at my hand, his excitement pulling me along. A pair of field glasses dangled from his neck, oversized and comically out of place on his small frame.

The morning air lay still, broken only by the occasional trill of birdsong as the sun climbed. We passed the evergreens and came to an ancient yew, the oldest tree on the grounds. Its gnarled branches spread outward from its massive trunk, reaching skyward in a display of resilience.

Eldad raised the glasses to his eyes, scanning the branches. After a moment, he climbed. “Come up here—look.”

Careful not to damage the yew, I followed him, stepping onto the thickest branches until I reached his perch.

“There.” He pointed to a crook in the tree. Nestled in the hollow lay a nest, woven from twigs and leaves. Inside, a cluster of speckled eggs rested like precious jewels. “The mother bird is going to have babies,” Eldad whispered with awe.

“Have you seen her?” I feared she would abandon the nest if threatened by our presence.

“Yes, from down there. That’s why I bring Mr. Haywood’s glasses. I never climb up here when she’s around. Papa taught me not to disturb nests when we went birdwatching back home.” I detected sadness in his voice. Though a naturally cheerful child, Eldad often seemed haunted by his past.

“I think these are hawfinch eggs,” I noted, hoping to redirect his focus. “You know, the orangey-brown birds with the bulky heads. They are very pretty.”

“They have black around their eyes.”

“That’s right.”

“Let’s go down. She’ll be back soon,” he said, already climbing down with careful movements.

We retreated to a grassy patch, far enough to avoid disturbing the mother bird’s return.

Eldad flopped onto the grass, peering back at the yew through his glasses. “I miss Rose and Mary,” he said softly. “They must be terribly bored, locked in their room all day.”

“Doctor Wales is taking good care of them. You’ll see—they’ll be out here playing before you know it.” I was hopeful. Though their progress was slow, the last twenty-four hours had been steady enough to stave off the need for a breathing tube—for now. By tomorrow, we would know whether they triumph over the illness or succumb to it.

“I’ll show them the nest.”

“They’ll love that.”

The worry over the girls bore down on me, even as I reeled from my trials: the guilt of unburying my son, the constant fear for Alex’s safety, and the anger at Mrs. White—an untouchable threat. I couldn’t fathom her audacity in breaking into the house. She deserved nothing less than a cell to rot in.

I turned to brighter thoughts. Eldad and I hardly separated these days. Through our friendship, we discovered that sorrow and joy could coexist, like sunshine piercing through the clouds even while the rain fell.

* * *

The night stretched on, time stalling beneath the hours of darkness. The Haywoods, Zaira, Martha, and I gathered in the kitchen. Spoken and silent prayers, words of encouragement, and a constant flow of coffee helped us endure it.

When dawn finally broke, I could wait no longer. I trudged up the stairs to the west wing, heart pounding. Doctor Wales had expressly forbidden it, but I had to know.

Outside the girls’ bedroom, I hesitated, paralyzed by the fear of what I might find. I bowed my head and whispered what must have been my thousandth prayer of the past hours. Steeling myself, I reached for the doorknob. Before I could turn it, the door swung inward.

Dr. Wales stepped into the hallway, his shoulders slumped, his eyes rimmed with fatigue.

Assuming the worst, I blurted, “Please, don’t tell?—”

“None of that,” he interrupted gently. “I’m just bone-tired. The girls fought hard and won. They’ll be all right.”

“Thank you—thank you.” The tension and sleepless hours crashed over me at once. A muffled cry of relief escaped, and without thinking, I hugged him.

His arms tightened around me, a warm embrace reminding me how starved I was for care. I’d spent so long being strong for others that I’d forgotten that I, too, needed kindness and comfort.

“I’ll stay through the day to ensure there are no setbacks,” he said.

“I appreciate that.” I stepped back, my gratitude evident in my smile.

Martha came around the corner just then. “Doctor Wales, breakfast is ready—porridge, sausage, and eggs with spinach—just the way you like it,” she announced with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I better share the good news with the others,” I decided at once. “Thanks again, doctor.” I smiled at Martha as I walked past her. Her attraction to him was undeniable. I wondered if he reciprocated it.

* * *

I stretched out on the sofa. Even when It had been a rewarding day. At last, we’d harvested a significant amount of foxglove, dried it, and delivered it to London for medicinal use. I was proud to have contributed to a project that would bless many lives.

I was drifting off into sleep when the telephone’s ring jolted me from the sofa. I reached for the receiver, my nerves already fraying. What kind of news would this call bring?

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Florence. Thomas here.”

“Thomas, hello.” My heart skipped a beat. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Yes and no.” He cleared his throat, a sound I had come to dread. “I suppose it’s all relative.”

“Tell me.” I sank into a chair, bracing for the blow.

“Good news first. Alexander and Haywood have been cleared, so I can tell you they’ve arrived safely in the States.”

“That’s wonderful, Thomas! Truly wonderful!” I let out a long, relieved sigh. “When will they head back?”

“My guess is a week or two. For security reasons, we don’t get many updates. But don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Will you relay the news to the Haywoods?”

“Of course, as soon as we hang up.”

“Right, then.” His tone shifted, becoming more formal. “Now, about the other matter.”

“It’s the children, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I know you’ve grown fond of them, but the laws are clear, and we are bound to follow them. The paperwork is complete, and the assigned families are eager to welcome them. I know these folks personally. The children will be in excellent hands. You can even visit them if you’d like.”

The news overshadowed my previous elation. Life, it seemed, never gave without demanding something in return. “I didn’t think it would happen this soon.”

“I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“Did you manage to arrange what we discussed last time?” After nearly losing Rose and Mary, I had pleaded with Thomas to keep the two sisters together, and, if possible, to group the other three girls and the two older boys. This way the transition would be less painful.

“I did as you asked. Furthermore, they’ll be in the same vicinity so they can see each other regularly. Now, about the youngest boy?—”

“Wait.” I cut him off, the idea finally forming into words. “I’d like to become Eldad’s legal guardian.”

“Florence—”

“Please, hear me out. He’s too young to be sent to a farm or anywhere else. He needs stability and care, and I can give him that. There’s no reason to uproot him again.”

“It’s not that simple. There are legal hurdles.”

“There must be something you can do. Please.”

“And Alexander? Have you considered what he might think?”

“He’ll be thrilled,” I said, though I knew Thomas had a point—I was acting unilaterally. But I trusted that Alex would support my decision.

Silence stretched, thick with unspoken deliberation.

“I can’t promise anything,” Thomas said at last. “But give me a few days.”

“Take as long as you need.” I dreaded having my hopes shattered again, for I couldn’t imagine a future without Eldad.