The next days sped by in a blur of activities.
Shannon visited Gladys Treehorn’s shop and ordered her bridal gown. She chose a lovely light-green silk organza, so pale it was almost white. It would have a three-tiered skirt and a ruffled off-the-shoulder neckline. The shoulders and center point would be accented with handmade satin roses. Mrs. Treehorn assured Shannon it would be ready before the seventeenth.
Suits were ordered from a tailor in Chinatown for the groom and his young nephew.
Sun Ling and Sun Jie set about giving the Dubois home a detailed scrubbing.
Three women from the church volunteered flowers from their gardens for the wedding day.
The reverend prepared his address to the couple.
Happiness pervaded the parsonage and the Dubois home alike. Even though Alice was once again confined to her bed, she wanted to talk of little else besides the wedding. She never failed to mention several times each day—to whomever sat beside her bed—how glad she was that Shannon and Matthew would soon be married, how happy their plans had made her.
Matthew didn’t go to church on Sunday morning, one week before his wedding day. When he visited his sister’s bedroom before leaving for the service, he found her struggling to draw breath and sent Todd for Dr. Featherhill. After the physician arrived, Matthew and the boy waited in the hallway. He tried his best to look calm for Todd’s sake, but in his heart he feared the worst.
The creak of the bedroom door drew his attention. Dr. Featherhill’s expression was grim as he gave his head the slightest of shakes. “She’s asking for you, Mr. Dubois.” The doctor then looked at Todd. “Young man, she wants to see you, too, but would like to speak to your uncle alone first.”
She was dying. She was dying soon—and the knowledge hit Matthew like a brick between the eyes. He’d known loss before. Their parents had died during a cholera outbreak. A friend who’d ridden for the Pony Express had died after a fall from a horse. He’d known two other men killed by Indians while manning swing stations on the overland trail. But this felt worse than all of them put together.
Drawing a breath to steady himself, he moved into the bedroom and walked to the bed. The curtains were drawn against the bright sunlight, a lamp on the bedside table providing what illumination there was.
Alice seemed to have shrunk until her body scarcely made a ripple in the blankets on the bed. When she saw him, she lifted a hand, though it dropped to her side again before he reached her.
“Alice,” he whispered as he sank onto the chair beside the bed. He took hold of her hand and folded it within both of his.
She smiled for a moment. “Remember what . . . we talked . . . about.
Teach . . . Todd . . . to love . . . God.”
“I will.”
“Remind him . . . often . . . how much . . . his mother . . . loved him.”
Matthew nodded.
“I’m . . . going to . . . a . . . better place.”
A lump formed in his throat, making an answer impossible. Listening to her labored speech made his own chest ache.
“I’m . . . sorry.”
“For what?” The question sounded raspy in his ears.
“For . . . not seeing . . . you sooner . . . I . . . love you . . . Matt.”
He leaned closer. “I love you, too, Alice. Wish I’d let you know it more.”
“I . . . knew it.” The smile returned to her lips. “I . . . always . . . knew.”
Her image swam before his eyes. The last time he’d cried had been when their mother died, only hours after their father. He blinked back the tears, unwilling to let them fall. He wanted to be strong for Alice.
“Be good . . . to Shannon.”
“I will.”
“Help Todd to love her as . . . she loves him.”
“Alice . . .”
“Don’t change . . . your wedding plans. Todd will . . . need her . . . more than ever.” She drew a breath but it took great effort. “You need her . . . Matt. You . . . need her love.”
His own breathing was labored, as if he were trying to breathe for her. “I know. We won’t change our plans. But don’t give up, Alice. Stay and be with us on our wedding day.”
Sadness filled her eyes as she shook her head. “Bring . . . Todd in . . . please.”
“Sure.” He released her hand, stood, and returned to the door.
Opening it, he said, “Your ma wants you, Todd.”
The boy was past him in an instant. Matthew stayed by the door, watching as Alice drew her son’s head down to her chest and stroked his hair. He couldn’t make out her words from where he stood. They were spoken too softly. But he heard Todd begin to cry.
It was only moments, though it felt like hours, before Alice lifted her eyes to meet his. The lump returned to his throat, and he pushed off from the wall at his back. When he reached the bedside, he put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Time to let your ma rest,” he said.
“No.” Todd straightened, looking up at him, then back at his mother. “Not yet.”
“It’s . . . all right . . . Todd,” she whispered. “You go with your . . . Uncle Matt.”
Matthew drew the boy back from the bed.
Alice closed her eyes. “I’ll . . . see you . . . both . . . again.”
Matthew believed it. Had always believed in the promise of heaven. But at the moment, the belief didn’t bring much comfort. “Let’s go, Todd.” He turned the boy and propelled him toward the bedroom door. To the doctor, he mouthed the words, I’ll be back. Then he and Todd went down the stairs to find Sun Ling.
Shannon and her father were just leaving the church when Sun Ling met them at the bottom of the steps. “So sorry. Mr. Dubois needs reverend.”
“Is it Alice?” Shannon said softly. That explained Matthew’s and
Todd’s absence from church that morning. It’s what she’d suspected, but she’d hoped she was wrong. It seemed she wasn’t.
Sun Ling nodded.
“We’ll come at once,” her father said.
The three of them set off, the two women almost having to run to keep up with the reverend.
As they entered the house, Shannon felt the pall of death hanging over it, and she knew in an instant they were too late to bid Matthew’s sister good-bye. Then she heard choked sobs coming from the parlor. She touched her father’s arm, letting him know where she was going.
Todd was seated on the floor near the hearth, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face hidden in his folded arms. She hurried to him, sinking to the floor in a puddle of skirt and petticoats.
“Todd,” she said softly.
He looked up, his face wet with tears. “My ma,” he croaked out.
She opened her arms and he tumbled into them. “It’s all right.” That was a lie and they both knew it. It was never all right when one’s mother died. But what else could she say to a lad so young? “It’s all right. Shh. It’s all right.”
His sobbing slowed, then fell silent, though his body continued to quiver and shudder in her arms.
Shannon remembered the night her mother had passed into glory. She remembered the empty feeling that had swirled around and through her. Her mother had suffered a great deal in the weeks leading up to her death, and many friends and acquaintances had said to Shannon that she should be thankful her mother was in a better place, thankful she was free from pain at last. But being free from pain and in a better place hadn’t mattered to Shannon. At the time she couldn’t be thankful for either. Right or wrong, she’d wanted her mother on earth, not in heaven.
She stroked Todd’s head, much as her father had stroked her head nine years ago. “It’s all right,” she repeated in a whisper.
A whimper drew her gaze toward the sofa. Beneath it, Nugget lay with his head on his paws, watching the two of them with sad eyes, as if he, too, understood what had happened, what it was like to lose a mother.
She kissed the air a couple of times and held out a hand to call him closer. After a hesitation, he came. “Nugget’s worried about you, Todd.”
The boy lifted his head from her chest and drew the puppy into the sad little circle.
Matthew was thankful for the reverend’s presence, grateful for both his silence and his prayers. By the time the two men descended the stairs, he felt more ready to face his nephew’s grief, as well as his own.
It was the sound of Shannon’s soft voice that drew him toward the parlor, Delaney Adair right behind him. Matthew stopped in the doorway, taking in the woman, boy, and puppy on the floor, Shannon’s skirts pooled around them. He wished he could join them there, wished he could gather all of them close, giving and receiving comfort.
Todd looked up, and Matthew saw a world of pain in the boy’s eyes. He held out a hand in his nephew’s direction. Todd jumped to his feet and came running. Another lump formed in Matthew’s throat, making speech impossible. All he could do was draw the boy close and hold him there.
Across the room, Shannon raised her eyes to his. In that moment she seemed to represent all that was right in a world that had gone horribly wrong, and he was thankful she was there. She’d cared tenderly for his sister’s needs as her body failed her. She’d been kind to Todd— and to Matthew too.
Shannon rose to her feet with a rustle of fabric. Then she moved toward him. “I’m so very sorry, Matthew.”
He swallowed hard as he nodded.
“Is there something I could do to help?”
He cupped her face with his left hand, wishing he could put his feelings into words. She helped simply by being there. He hoped she would understand that despite the absence of words.
“Don’t change . . . your wedding plans. Todd will . . . need her . . . more than ever. You need her . . . Matt.”
Maybe he couldn’t put it into words now, but someday, somehow, he would tell her.