She took Eduard’s face into her hands and kissed him deeper than she had ever kissed him before. Because for the first time since she’d arrived, Mary felt the same deep love she’d felt when she first met Eduard years ago.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she allowed herself to sink deeper into his hold. As the warmth of his body enveloped her, a feeling of peace washed over her. The feeling that he would protect her from anything that tried to hurt her, even herself.
Jane Hoffman-Abernathy laid in a small bed, passed down to her from Eduard Hoffman, her father. The wood for the frame, he had once told her, came from a tree specifically picked out by her mother before she was born. He built it with his own hands to be used first as a baby bed and then fashioned bigger as she grew.
A quilt, sewn by Mary Hoffman, her mother, was nestled atop her frail body. She traced the threaded fabric absentmindedly as she looked out the nearby window. It was the only thing she had of her mother, a final gift before Mary had lost her life giving birth to her.
The window was cracked open a small amount and a soft breeze blew against the lace curtains. She looked out at the large oak tree, casting shade on the people passing by, living their lives unaware of the fact that death would come for them too one day.
Children ran around under the large oak tree as the shadow from the midday sun allowed them a cool place to play. Playtime was a luxury that the wealthier families — who could afford to hire help — allowed for their children.
Lizzie, her only daughter, sat nearby in a chair holding her hand. She was the spitting image of her father with raven black hair and clear blue eyes. Tears fell softly as she waited for her mother's passing.
“I wish you could hold on a little longer, Mother. I know you are tired, but just stay with me just a little while, please.” Lizzie’s hair was wet and matted to her forehead, desperation drenching her as she grieved.
Jane turned her face to Lizzie. “I know. I wish I had more time with you as well. You are an amazing daughter, wife, and mother. I’m so proud of you, my dear.” The declaration brought forth fresh tears to Lizzie’s eyes.
“It is because of you, Mother. You taught me well.” Lizzie sniffed. “It’s too bad your mother wasn’t able to raise you.” A new sadness settled between them.
Jane gave a soft chuckle. “My father did well enough. I don’t know if you remember him, but he loved you.” Jane thought back fondly on the memories with her father.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Lizzie rose from her seat. A sudden knock on the front door to their shared home pulled the attention of her daughter away.
Jane looked back out the window and continued to watch the children play. She recognized two of the small girls. One was her granddaughter, Sarah, and the other was Abigail, whose brown hair was frizzy in every direction from sweat and running in circles. Her red polka dot dress zigzagged back and forth as the three children smiled and laughed.
Abigail was from a merchant family that lived nearby and, despite Sarah’s feisty personality, she continued to play along with whatever crazy game was suggested. The boy playing with them looked a couple years older, but she couldn’t place his name.
Voices drifted in from the next room, and Jane made the effort to listen as best she could until the voices grew louder and the door to her room opened. Her doctor and Lizzie entered.
“Hello, Jane. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Branson placed his medical bag on the dresser and opened it, pulling out a stethoscope.
“The fever came suddenly, doc. She was fine when she went to bed last night, but this morning, she was covered in sweat.” Lizzie came over and gave Jane’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
Jane tried to offer a supportive smile. “I have honestly felt worse. Just tired and weak.”
“Well, based on the symptoms, it is unclear exactly what is ailing you.” Dr. Branson seemed bored and detached. Newer to their town, he was still working to build relationships. “She just needs to stay in bed and rest. Bring her lots of fluids. I recommend a broth diet.”
Dr. Branson finished his examination of Jane and returned all his equipment back to his bag as he prepared to leave. Lizzie followed him out of the room. The door didn’t fully close so Jane was able to hear the full conversation.
“When can we expect her to recover?” Lizzie’s voice was low and tense.
The doctor sighed. “At her age, don’t hold out too much hope. Just make her comfortable, and start making arrangements now.” The front door opened, but after a pause he continued. “And say your goodbyes.” The door shut quietly behind him. Hearing Lizzie cry made Jane’s heart ache.
Goodbyes? I’m not ready for goodbyes,Jane thought. Her chest tightened, knowing the end was close. She was nowhere near ready to face it. Soon, she would join her father and mother in the great beyond.
“Well,” Lizzie reappeared, her eyes rimmed with red from the tears. “You heard Dr. Branson. You just need lots of fluids andrest, and you will be back to normal in no time.” Lizzie sat at the end of the bed and gave her calf a reassuring squeeze.
“That isn’t what he said, dear. I may be sick, but I am not deaf.” Jane smiled, which only made Lizzie cry again.
“Oh, don’t cry for me. I lived my life. I wish I accomplished more or left you more of an inheritance, of course. That is my one regret.” Jane’s voice was hoarse and crackled as she spoke.
Though the words escaped her lips, they lacked conviction. The truth was complicated. She wanted more time with her daughter, and grandchildren. A chance to accomplish just one more goal.
“Will you tell me again about your childhood? About your favorite games? About your mother?” Lizzie whispered and wiped the tears from her face. Jane recognized her need for a distraction.
“Of course. As you know, I grew up lucky enough to focus on school and play. My mother died giving birth to me, but my father made sure to provide whatever I needed. Apparently, my mother's family sent over money, hoping my father would take it and allow me to go back to London to be raised by my grandmother. But he kept the money and me.” Jane’s chest heaved as she struggled to take a deep breath. “Did I ever tell you about my mother, Mary?”
“You haven’t said much about her.”
