The Shadow of Celene by Carol Sanders

Author:Carol Sanders [Sanders, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Beauty and Anguish

I returned to the house, closed the dining room doors and kept watch over my child. I watched, wept, and wondered how I would live without her.

Later, Celene brought wood, replenished the fire and lit candles. Through the night the handless clock sounded the hours.

Sarah.

A knock sounded to distract me from my memories, regrets and sorrow. When I opened the door, Matthew Howard removed his cap and I saw his bright hair and beard had been cleaned and trimmed to neatness.

His green eyes looked beyond me, to the table bearing my child.

“Mrs. Prescott, the work is complete.” He bowed his head, rubbed his hand over his face. “Miss Celene brought light and made me more presentable.”

Celene stood behind him, her face pale in the light of the candle she held. She moved past Mr. Howard and whispered, “He helped us. Be kind.” I nodded my agreement and she departed.

Celene understood men and women, their actions, their deserved rewards and punishments.

“I am obliged to you, sir. If you like, you are welcome to remain this night beneath our roof.” I pulled the door closed behind me and led him to the front parlor. “We’ll make a place for you before the fire.”

“Thank you,” he said, looking about the sparsely furnished room.

“The parlor is much changed from its previous state, but I believe you will be more comfortable here than outdoors.” I looked into his eyes. “Sir, I am most grateful for your help today.” The pain of loss sprang forth, but I resisted it. “We would be honored if tomorrow you would join us as we. . . .”

The well of sorrow overflowed, sweeping me into a sea of tears. I closed my eyes, stumbled, and he took me in his arms to prevent my fall. There I drew in his odors of sweat and earth, horse and smoke, his warm male comfort.

Only for a moment. I pulled myself away and vowed to be strong, like Celene.

She appeared in the doorway, carrying quilts for Mr. Howard to form his bed.

“Good night, sir.” I hoped the shadows hid the embarrassment I felt creeping up my cheeks.

“Sleep well, ma’am,” he called.

Those words stopped me. What was he saying? I set out to watch over my dead child, and he bade me sleep well?

I thought again. Ah, perhaps he was exhausted as we all were, and made foolish by it.

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