but in spring and summer it was one of the most admired gardens in the village. Mother Leighton prided herself on her talents with roses. She had promised Meg her own corner of the garden this spring.
Gen sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. Elliot exited the room and walked past her on his way downstairs. “We’ll be awhile,” he said gently. “Why don’t you take the opportunity to get some sleep?” Without waiting for her reply, he continued downstairs. He came back up again bearing a sheaf of paper, an ink bottle, and a pen.
“Mrs. Dane?” Betsy called from the foot of the stairs. “Is everything all right?”
Gen stretched and started to get up. “I think so. Mr. Leighton is with the reverend.” She smiled. “I’ve been dismissed.” “Can I get you anything?” Betsy asked.
“I’d love some strong coffee,” Gen said. “I just didn’t want to invade your territory”
Betsy grinned. “Cook guards the kitchen like it was the last stand in a battle. But this is Cook’s day off, and I certainly don’t mind if you make yourself at home in the kitchen.”
Simon lifted his head off the pillow and wheezed, “Promise me you will do it, Elliot. On God’s Word. Promise.”
Elliot looked up from his papers. “You have my word.”
Simon peered into his brother-in-law’s eyes for a moment before relaxing back against his pillow with a sigh. “Thank you, Elliot. You have been a good brother.”
A few days later, Gen sat in the parlor with Jane, waiting for Dr. Merrill to come down from Simon’s room. When he did, his face did not reveal what the women wanted to see. “But only a week ago you said he had survived the worst,” Gen said, her voice wavering. Jane put a comforting hand on Gen’s arm.
“I know,” the doctor said, stroking his beard self-consciously. “I was wrong. We could expect him to throw it off if he had been in better health, but I’m afraid he’s let his general constitution become so run down that even the slightest compromise in his lungs can be serious. And this is more than a slight compromise.” He sighed. “Perhaps I am wrong. A person’s own will can work miracles. I’ve seen it happen before. But I’ve also seen strong-willed individuals succumb to lesser cases. Life and death are in God’s hands, Mrs. Dane. I will do all I can.” He headed for the back door.
Gen went to Simon, who was resting quietly. “What does he say?” he asked without opening his eyes.
“That there is always hope,” Gen answered.
After a moment, Simon whispered, “I’m not afraid, Gen. I’ve lived a good life. God knows the best time to take me home. And if I am to go now, I do not wish to linger long, although I would be glad to stay longer for the children’s sake.”
“Stay for me,” Gen begged, sitting down next to him. “Stay for me.”
“I’m tired, Gen,” he said, and slipped away. She thought at first he was asleep, but soon realized he was nearly unconscious. His skin felt clammy.
Over the next few days, Simon had odd moments of lucidity when he woke and surprised whoever was tending him with a memory of the past or a comment on some biblical concept. Once, he asked Elliot to read hymns aloud. Another time he requested the Psalms. Meg sang to him. Aaron read an essay he had written on the greatness of God. Several times Simon gave Gen suggestions for the future, insisting that she repeat what he had said, eliciting her promise to obey him.
He wanted the children raised in New York, he said. The schools were better. “Where else would we go, dear?” Gen reassured him.
“They love Jane and Elliot, don’t they?” he asked once.
“Of course,” Gen said. “It’s almost as if they have two sets of parents.”
Simon complained of feeling dull and stupid. “I can’t make my mind think on anything for more than a second,” he murmured, “I don’t ever remember feeling so tired.”
When fever raged, his mind wandered and fastened onto impossible, imaginary things. He tried to get out of bed one night and mount an imaginary horse. “But I have to get to Cloudman’s village, Gen—they want me to marry Blue Eyes and Two Stars—they’ve been waiting—let me go.”
It was several moments before Gen could calm him down. When she did, she sat back in her chair, trembling.
One morning, he asked what day it was. “The Sabbath,” Gen answered, and commented that the