The Scholar Read online

  “Not at all. Feel free to make yourself at home.

  “How was Mrs. Cassidy?” Dr. Neal went to the wash basin and scrubbed his hands with soap and water, then dried them on a white towel that hung from a rack on the wall.

  I filled him on our visit. “All in all, I’ve no idea what could be wrong with her,” I said.

  “I’m stumped as well. Other than a case of severe reactions to pollen or something else in the air. It’s strange, though, because it’s lasted since last fall. At first I thought it was simply a bad cold. But to persist this way is baffling.”

  I nodded before finishing the last of my sandwich. “We’ll come up with something,” I said.

  “We have to. Or I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep her alive through next winter.” Dr. Neal sat across from me at his desk. “Tell me, Theo, do you have any plans to marry?”

  “Not in the immediate future,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s important for a doctor to have a wife. Especially a doctor who will be delivering babies. It’s an intimate job—if you know what I mean.”

  I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I see.”

  “Was there anyone back east?”

  “No, I was busy with school.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “But you won’t be now. There are a few ladies here in town who would be only too happy to marry Theo Barnes.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “There’s another thing I wanted to make you aware of. It’s about your brother.”

  “What about him?” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, but it slid in there anyway.

  “You know he’s running a bar in the basement of the lodge.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard,” I said. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Nothing, really. Other than some of our finer citizens have expressed disapproval. I’m simply bringing it up in case you run into questions or problems.”

  “Duly noted.” Once again, my twin was making my life more complicated.

  6

  Louisa

  * * *

  As promised, Quinn and Alexander called on us later that day. I left them alone with my parents and went out to take a walk. When I returned an hour later, the Barnes motorcar was no longer parked by the house. I let myself in through the back door, feeling hopeful. We would be all right. Staying at the Barneses’ would give us time to come up with whatever the next phase of our life as a family would be.

  What I found, however, ruined whatever hope I had.

  Father was on the floor. Mother knelt next to him with her hands on the sides of his face. “Simon, wake up. Wake up.”

  I went numb for a moment, unable to understand what I was seeing. “Mother?”

  She looked up at me, her eyes wild with panic. “He collapsed. I can’t get him to answer me. Get the doctor.”

  I didn’t stop to think or ask questions, turning around and running out the door. Breathing heavily, I ran as fast as I could toward Dr. Neal’s office. Still, it felt like hours before I yanked open the door and stumbled into the waiting room. Nurse Kelley jerked to her feet at the sight of me.

  “It’s my father. Something’s wrong. He’s not moving.”

  Theo and Dr. Neal rushed into the room, both with their doctor’s bags. “Let’s go,” Dr. Neal said.

  “Should I drive us?” Theo asked.

  “No, it’s quicker to go on foot,” I said.

  The men nodded, and then we set out at a pace just under a run across the street and down the alley until we reached the parish. We all came in from the back door.

  Father was on the floor where he’d collapsed. Mother, on her knees, knelt over him, sobbing and begging him to open his eyes.

  “Let me have a look,” Dr. Neal said.

  I looked at the doctor as the taste of copper pennies filled my mouth. Please, tell me I’m wrong, I thought. But I knew it was useless. He was gone.

  Dr. Neal dropped to the floor next to Father’s body. Theo gently helped Mother to her feet and over to a chair. He exchanged a quick look with Dr. Neal that told me everything I needed to know. There was no hope. I hiccupped and then brought my hand to my mouth, hoping to silence the sounds of my sobs.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Neal said. “His heart must have given out.”

  I went to Mother and sat beside her. Her skin was the color of raw chicken. She seemed to have slipped away, as if she too were no longer present in her body. As if she’d gone with him. Wherever Father was now. With the angels? Seeing Saint Peter?

  “He was fine. He was talking to me, and then he slumped over,” Mother said.

  “It appears to have been quick,” Dr. Neal said.

  “He didn’t say a word,” Mother said. “Or even make a noise. He just slumped over and fell to the floor.”

  I looked around the tidy, pleasant room that smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Our yellow tablecloth covered the table. Mother had washed the lunch dishes, and they sat drying in our wooden rack. Our painting of Jesus on the cross hung on the wall. Everything as normal as could be. The same scene I’d enjoyed since I’d first come here at nine years old. They’d made me feel safe and secure. Nothing could hurt me again. Mother had told me that when I first lived with them. But this? This hurt. My good, dear Father gone? No, it couldn’t be. I’d never hear his soft voice or hearty laugh again. Or one of his uplifting sermons that had given us all hope even during the terrible years of the war.

  “I’m very sorry,” Dr. Neal said. “He was a great man.”

  “Yes, yes, he was,” I said, almost defensively, as if the kind doctor has said the opposite. I started to shake. This couldn’t be happening. Please, God, let me wake up and this just be a nightmare.

  An image of horrible Mrs. Poe came to me. Her beady eyes, hungry for power and dominance. The church had been taken over by awful people. They’d done this to him. Broken his heart. Their cruelty had killed him.

  My mother had returned to Father. She brushed his hair back from his forehead and whispered to him. I couldn’t bear it, though. I couldn’t look at him that way.

  Desperate to focus on something else, I scanned the room. What I found was Theo. His dark blue eyes locked to mine. Without a word, yet seeming to understand, he sat beside me.

  ***

  Dr. Neal was on the phone. Making the arrangements for the body, I realized. A funeral. We’d have to have a funeral. I would have to take care of everything for Mother. What was I supposed to do? Families had relied on Father during these times. He would have gone to the house and sat with the widow, helped her decide how to proceed with a burial. But there was no pastor to help me. Father had buried so many during his time at the church. I’d never thought before how families must have needed him in those moments. Who was I supposed to call? Darkness closed in on me. I could see no farther than my own hands on my lap. “I don’t know what to do now,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone.

  Theo’s voice was soft in my ear. “I’ll call my mother. She’ll know what to do. You’re not alone. My family will make sure of that.”

  The church was filled to its capacity the day we buried Father. I sat with Mother in the front pew as Lord Barnes conducted the memorial. Theo and Quinn had made sure that the new pastor was nowhere near that day. After the emotional ceremony, Mother and I walked out of the church to the cemetery where the pallbearers would bring Father to his final resting place.

  In a daze, I held on to Mother, afraid she would fall over without me, as they lowered the coffin into the ground. Fiona and Cymbeline had picked wildflowers and brought them to us. I took the bouquets gratefully and took the most beautiful of the columbine and tossed it into the grave first. One by one, I let the flowers tumble out of my hands until almost every inch of the surface of Father’s coffin was covered.

  Li Wu accompanied Fiona with his violin as she sang “Amazing Grace.” I hadn’t cried until then. But that song and Fiona’s sweet, pure voice and the
mournful violin notes touched a place deep inside me. One that I’d stifled until then.

  When they finished, the mourners who’d gathered around the grave site wandered away, perhaps sensing that Mother and I wanted to say goodbye alone. I knelt in the dirt in my stiff black dress. “Goodbye, Father. Thank you for rescuing me and teaching me what a true father’s love is like. Be with God now.”

  Mother remained standing. She had one last flower in her hand. A purple lupine. Father’s favorite. He’d remembered gathering them with his mother when he was young.

  Mother placed her hand on my shoulder as she let the flower drift to the coffin. “I can’t think of what to say that I haven’t already said to him.”

  I stood and linked her arm with mine. “You said it all when he was here. That’s what matters most.”

  She rested her head against my shoulder. “Yet you always want one more moment.”

  “You’ll have them again. When you’re reunited.”

  Mother drew in a deep breath. “For a thousand years.”

  We all gathered at the Barneses’ estate after the funeral. After I had Mother settled with Quinn in their formal parlor, I went outside to breathe fresh air into my lungs. Without greeting any of the mourners who gathered in various places in the grassy yard, I walked blindly toward the barn. I passed by the guest cottage. We’d moved our belongings in the day before, but it in no way felt like home. Mother and I had not slept much. Not only were we without Father, but the rooms smelled strange. Even the night noises were different.

  Without a plan of where to go, I walked toward the barn. My black dress and hat absorbed the heat from the afternoon sun, making me overly warm. I plucked the pins from my hat and tossed it onto a short bush. I’d get it later. Now I needed to feel the sun on my face. A breeze moved the fine hairs that had escaped from my bun.

  Alexander was out by the horse pasture, draped over the fence. I turned to head back to the house, not wanting him to see me there. Regardless, he must have heard me because he straightened and turned toward me.

  “Louisa? Does your mother need me?”

  “No, I needed a break from everything.”

  I went to stand beside him. The day was startlingly gorgeous with the green meadow and blue sky. Two of the horses were in the pasture, happily eating grass. I rested my hands on the top of the rough board of the fence and leaned against it for support.

  “You’ve lost your hat?” Alexander asked.

  “Tossed it. Too hot.”

  He returned his gaze toward the meadow. “Your father would have loved this day.”

  “Yes, he loved summer,” I said. “The other seasons too. He was like that—always finding the good. Even in me.”

  “He thought you hung the moon.”

  “He loved me when he didn’t have to.”

  “We had a lot of good times together,” Alexander said. “He was a good friend to me. I’ll miss him.”

  The breeze came in a sudden gust, ruffling my hair and causing Alexander’s tie to swing in my direction.

  “I was just standing here thinking how sorry I am that I didn’t know what was going on at the church,” Alexander said. “I wish I’d known. The strain of all that couldn’t have been good for his heart.”

  I realized Alexander felt regretful and perhaps guilty. “This was in no way your doing. Anyway, I don’t think it would have made any difference. Dr. Neal said his heart was weak. He’d told us months and months ago.”

  “Your father didn’t tell me that, either.”

  “He was proud. Even though he knew it was a sin,” I said, smiling.

  “There wasn’t a more decent man on earth. Or a better friend.” He dipped his head and bent over the fence once more. The energy seemed to leave his body for a moment before he straightened and returned his attention to me. “I’ve lost more than one great friend in my lifetime. In the end, when I think back on the good times we shared, I’m grateful for the memories of kinship and laughter. I was just standing here thinking about that—trying to find joy but I’m sad.”

  Even as fluid and quickly as time went, we always had our memories. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He wanted me to get married. I let him down that way.”

  “He wanted you to be taken care of, that’s all.”

  “It seems that’s the only way for a woman. Marriage.” I paused, trying to pull myself together.

  “The world isn’t always fair. For women, especially.”

  I nodded but kept quiet. Alexander didn’t deserve to be the recipient of my anger at the world. We were both quiet for a moment. Birds chirped from the surrounding trees. Happy bees buzzed from flower to flower in the meadow. From the backyard came the sound of children shouting and playing. How could everything just continue like this? It was an irrational thought, but I’d expected life would stop for my grief. “Everything just keeps going, doesn’t it?”

  “Despite your loss?” Alexander asked.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “I can remember thinking that exact thing when my first wife died. Fiona was a newborn, and she continued to grow and thrive even though her mother was gone. I thought about that again when Cole died.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

  “Oh, no, it’s all right.” Alexander was referring to the stray bullet from Pa’s gun that had killed Mr. Cole. A stray bullet meant to scare me. “I never told you how sorry I was about what Pa did.”

  “None of that was your fault. You were a powerless child.”

  “Days will go by when I don’t think of him. I’ll start to believe I’m done with all that. Sometimes, it’s as if I don’t remember those years at all. As if they hadn’t happened. Then, out of nowhere, a detail will stop me cold.”

  “The hardships we endure are always part of us, I’m afraid. Perhaps they make us better, in the end?”

  “I’d like to think so.” In truth, I didn’t think this was always true. Some hardships made us cold and hard. As mine had.

  “You and your mother can stay here as long as you need to,” Alexander said.

  “Thank you. We’ll not be in the way.”

  “You’d never be in the way. We all care a great deal about you and your mother.”

  Walking around apologetic about my existence was as normal to me as breathing. “How will we ever get on our feet? I’ve no skills. Neither does Mother, other than being a pastor’s wife.”

  “Life will unfold as it should. I know it must not seem that way to you now, but you have to trust God will lead you in the right direction.”

  “I don’t know how I can ever repay you and your family for everything you’ve done for me. I’d like to. Very much.”

  “You will, someday, when you least expect it, you’ll be of service to someone who needs you. That’s the way we repay the generosity of others.”

  I gazed across the meadow. How would I ever be of service to anyone? I had nothing to offer. I could see no future other than continuing to need the charity of others as I had all my life.

  7

  Theo

  * * *

  After the last of the mourners had gone and Louisa and Mrs. Lind had returned to the cottage, Papa asked me to meet him in his study. Mama had gone upstairs to put my little sisters to bed. Cymbeline and Fiona were snuggled together in the library reading. Flynn had gone home to Shannon.

  Papa poured us both a drink, and we settled in the leather chairs.

  “What is it, Papa? I can see you have something on your mind.”

  “Do you mind that Louisa and her mother are here?”

  “Not at all. Why would you ask?”

  “I remember how smitten you were with her when you were younger.” Papa scrutinized me, his inquisitive eyes taking in every one of my nuanced movements. I’d never been able to hide from him. He knew me as well as Flynn did. “I know you were crushed when she had feelings for your brother instead of you.”

  “I was crushed. But that was all a long
time ago now.” My chest had ached for Louisa and her mother all day. Seeing them at the graveside had been enough to break anyone’s heart. However, nothing remained of my boyhood feelings for Louisa. I was fond of her, of course, but only as a chum from our school days.

  “Before the war does seem like a lifetime ago,” Papa said. “So much has happened since then.”

  Mama appeared in the doorway. “May I join you?”

  “Yes, please.” Papa beamed at the sight of her. They appeared to be as in love as they’d ever been.

  She came in to stand next to Papa’s chair and put her hand on his shoulder. “Theo, how are you holding up?”

  “Very well. A sad day, though,” I said.

  “Would you care for a drink?” Papa asked.

  “Very funny.” Mama rolled her eyes as she perched on the arm of his chair.

  It was a long-standing joke between them. The first time Papa had given Mama a whiskey, she’d choked and coughed. She’d never again had one.

  “I’ve never been as thankful to have the guest cottage as I was today,” Mama said.

  “Agreed,” Papa said. “I’m glad they can have privacy while they grieve.”

  “I asked if they’d take their meals with us,” Mama said. “We’re a few less at the table these days.”

  Papa patted her knee. “You did a wonderful job with everything today. Thank you.”

  “Lizzie and Matilda did all the work.” Mama let out a long sigh. “What a sad day. I can remember like it was yesterday when Pamela and Simon came here to take Louisa home with them.”

  “Time marches on,” Papa said. “Whether we want it to or not.”

  “Speaking of which,” Mama said as she directed her gaze toward me, “Martha Neal said her husband sang your praises today.”

  I smiled, pleased. “That’s good to hear. Neal’s a hard man to read.”

  “Martha said he’s been home for dinner on time every night since you arrived,” Mama said. “Which is a very nice thing for a wife with three little children.”