acknowledge that. It was wrong, and I acknowledge that as well. I regret the rift between our mother and myself more than you can know, Lila. However, you must know that Mama sent me regular letters apprising me of your life at my request. Pictures as well.”
That appeared to give his sister pause. “She said nothing of that to me. Not in all these years. Whenever I asked her about you, she said you wanted nothing to do with us.”
“I suppose it must have seemed that way,” Decker acknowledged, “and perhaps it was easier for her to view what happened in those terms. Rest assured, however, I may have been gone, but I never stopped loving either of you.”
Lila gave him a hard stare that told Jo there would be many rocky moments ahead in Decker’s relationship with his younger sister. In the midst of the night, Lila had been too engulfed in tears to offer many words. It seemed time and some slumber—however abbreviated—had loosened her tongue.
“Lila,” Jo said then, seeking to ease the tension, “I will ring for a tray to be brought up for you. When you are peckish, you may help yourself to whatever you would like.”
“If you insist upon ringing for a tray, I shan’t stop you,” Lila grumbled.
Jo did just that and settled in to wait once more.
Silence reigned. The tray arrived, and Lila reluctantly stole some bits here and there, eating no more than a sparrow would, it seemed to Jo. However, it was something. Meanwhile, Decker and Lila’s mother remained unresponsive.
At long last, Dr. Thompson arrived.
Decker stiffened at Jo’s side, his countenance sharpened to blunt, hard edges as the doctor performed a cursory examination. The doctor’s expression was sympathetic but firm as he turned to address Decker.
“I do not expect a recovery, Mr. Decker.”
The grim pronouncement tore a gasp from Lila. Jo absorbed the news, which, whilst expected, was a heavy blow to Decker. He had wanted very much to speak with his mother. To have a final chance at erasing some of the old pains between them. To make amends for their rift.
Now, he would not have that opportunity.
She bit her lip as she turned her gaze toward her husband, whose dark head was bowed over the hands clasped in his lap. “It is as I feared, then. How may we…make her more comfortable, Dr. Thompson?”
“I will administer more laudanum,” the physician said. “In hours such as these, it is often a matter of easing the patient’s distress. Nearness of one’s family is immeasurable. You are doing everything you can, sir.”
Decker’s head raised, and he nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Thompson.”
Jo did not miss the sparkle of tears in her husband’s sky-blue eyes. Nor did she hesitate to reach for his hands, settling hers soothingly atop his. The gesture said everything that mere words could not.
She was not going anywhere.
His mother was gone.
Decker held his sister in his arms, her small body wracked by uncontrollable sobs, weeping along with her. Warring with the sadness was a confusing sense of relief, accompanied by the swelling tide of regret.
Regret that he had waited seven years to forgive his mother, and when he had finally done so, it had nearly been too late. Regret he had not swallowed his pride and tried to make peace with her before she had been lying on her deathbed. Relief that he had been able to tell her what he needed to. He wanted to believe she had heard him, that the brief flutter of her lashes had been her way of acknowledging.
Perhaps forgiving him, too.
When at last their tears waned, Jo was there, ushering them calmly from the room, taking them to a sitting room where tea and sandwiches awaited them. She fussed over Decker and Lila in equal measure, and he found himself being stuffed into a chair, a cup of tea thrust into his hands.
He was thirsty.
Weary.
Not hungry, he did not think. In truth, his guts were churning, and he thought he might vomit. The room seemed to swirl around him. He was a man grown, but he had not been prepared to contend with his mother’s death. From the moment he had received that troubling telegram the day before until the moment she had breathed her last, he had been desperate to believe she would recover. She was too young. Too vital. He had too much he wanted to say to her.
He wanted her to meet Jo.
To continue being a mother to Lila.
To cradle her