“Why didn’t you send for me?” Joseph demanded.
“It’s not unusual after surgery. A fever like this is also common; but preceded by chills…” Their father looked back to her. “Your sister is a fighter, Joseph—we all know that. None of this means she won’t recover.” But Joseph could hear in his father’s voice that he’d not even convinced himself.
This was exactly what had happened to Joseph’s grandfather. Just when it seemed the danger had passed…
No! His sister was younger and stronger. She would survive this.
Hélène’s mind wandered.She whispered instructions to fugitives as if she were already aiding the Underground Railroad. She murmured phrases from Shakespeare and hummed bars from operas. Liam tried to engage her by reciting the next line of the speech or the aria. Much of the time, she seemed unaware of anyone’s presence. She appeared to be conversing with another Liam, another May, another Tessa from months before.
Other times, Hélène clung to the present so long, they began to hope. She and Liam recreated their favorite poems. But these lucid intervals became shorter and shorter, more and more precious.
Joseph could not remain with her all day; other parishioners needed him. On his third visit, one of the candles guttered, and Hélène murmured: “‘Put out the light, and then put out the light.’”
Joseph frowned and looked to Tessa.
“It’s fromOthello.” She did not have a chance to explain.
“Hélène means ‘light’; did you know that?” His sister gripped Tessa’s hand as if this were a matter of utmost importance. “‘Clare’ does too! One’s Greek, and the other one’s Latin. I forget which is which… I don’t mean Clare is going to die next, Tessa! I mean theopposite: that I am ‘passing the torch’ to her! I know she can’t eventalkyet, but Clare will be your best friend, you’ll see!” Tears spilled from Hélène’s eyes. “Oh, I wish I could be there! But you’ll tell her about her godmother, won’t you? I haven’t fulfilled my duties very well, I know…” She sat up suddenly, as if she’d found the solution. “I’ll come back as afairygodmother, and make all her dreams come true! Clare will be happy, Tessa, I know she will—she’ll findherprince! Maybe even two, who’ll fight to win her hand, and she’ll have a hard time deciding…”
Tessa stroked Hélène’s arm, trying to calm her, even as she smiled at Joseph. “One prince is quite enough.”
All of them had to sleep some time, if only in anguished snatches. Tessa and Joseph were alone with Hélène again when his sister squeezed his hand and gasped:
“Oh, night that guided me!
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn!
Oh, night that joined
Beloved with lover!”
Tessa blushed. “Ellie, you must save that for Liam.”
But Joseph recognized the words. “It isn’t— That is to say: Itisa love poem; but it’s the Soul speaking to God. It’s a stanza from ‘The Dark Night of the Soul,’ by Saint John of the Cross.”
For a moment, Tessa only stared at him, as if she didn’t quite believe it. “Oh.”
The next morning,at the gate, Joseph passed Dr. Mortimer leaving. The man’s face told him everything. At first, Joseph thought it meant he was already too late. Then the surgeon murmured: “She’s still with us.”
For how much longer?
Joseph entered the hall to find his father attacking the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. He slammed his palm against the wood again and again till it must have hurt. “Damn, damn, damn, damn,damn!”
Joseph’s mother stood beside his father. She glanced at Joseph, then touched his father’s shoulder and offered: ‘At a time like this, we must remember our blessings.’
‘Whatblessings?’
She hesitated. ‘God spared our home during the fire…’
‘What is a pile of wood and brick beside our daughter’s life,Anne?’ He glared at the portrait of Christ on the wall. ‘Take the house!’ He stopped signing and started shouting. “Do you hear me, you bastard? Take the damn house! Just leave me my girl…” He sank to his knees on the floor. Joseph had never seen his father sob before.
His mother tried to comfort him, but she told Joseph: ‘He’s given up hope.’
Hélène had too. Joseph climbed the stairs to hear her pleading with her husband. She spoke no longer of Shakespeare or fairy godmothers, only reality. “Don’t you see? That’s why God didn’t give us children—so you could start again.”
“I can’t,” Liam insisted, his breaths as labored as hers.
“But I am saying I want you to!” Hélène’s tears belied her words. “Heaven will be alittleawkward, yes; I cannot pretend I won’t be a tiny bit jealous. But the last thing I want is for you to spend the rest of your life mourning me!”
