“When he got sick, Mistress Stonewell told me to take care of him. For four days I brought him water, washed him, fed him, and held his hand.” Tears began streaming down my face.
“The night . . .,” I had to pause for a moment, then started again. “The night before he died, he told me that he had never, uh, never kissed a girl. He was smelly and dying, but I kissed him.” I still remembered his soft lips against mine, and how he smiled when I eagerly embraced him. “He requested to watch the sunset, so we stumbled up the stairs of the basement and made our way outside. I fed him soup broth. It was my first and only date.” I chuckled. “He died the next morning.”
“That must have been hard for you,” Maverick said. I considered his words, but there was something so incredibly enlightening about his death.
“I think I’m supposed to feel sad about that time in my life,” I said. “But instead, I look back on those days as a beautiful lesson. One shared with me by a kindred soul,” I answered.
“And what did he teach you?” Maverick asked. He looked haunted, but accepting, of my story; the ghosts in his eyes seemed to seek me out and comfort our mutual losses.
“That endings can be beautiful,” I whispered.
That night we both watched over the weak woman. When she woke up, Maverick held her hand while I braided her hair. We talked about everything and about nothing. She mostly listened to our sleepy voices, her throat too constricted to contribute to the conversation.
The next morning, Patrick brought breakfast and a change of clothes. He smiled sweetly at me, but other than a pleasant ‘good morning’, no words were exchanged. I briefly wondered if they were mad that I didn’t make them breakfast, but I knew that, regardless, I was needed here.
Maverick and I didn’t speak much to one another except when the Walker woman was awake. Otherwise, he kept a stoic expression and gripped her hand. He seemed to be someone well acquainted with death; he anticipated her needs while her body deteriorated. It was amazing and humbling to watch someone so young (he couldn’t be much older than me) be so familiar with death. He knew what she needed and gave himself willingly to her.
The next night, we took turns sleeping in the hall on a makeshift pallet and just before sunrise, he quietly called me into the room. I knew it was time.
Heat rolled off her skin in waves, making me sweat. I imagined Elliot with us, whispering to her while she let go. The monitors eventually beeped, forcing us to acknowledge her passing. We let it ring through the clinic, neither one of us able to turn it off. The finality of it seemed too real. Too painful.
The Black family buried her in their family cemetery. It was a quick and quiet ceremony. Neither Maverick nor I knew enough about her to give a thorough, memorial service. Instead, we only stared silently at her body wrapped in cloth while Patrick, Jacob, and Kemp lowered her gracefully into the ground.
Maverick and I never spoke of the woman again, but something between us changed that night. A bond formed between us that only an experience like that could forge. The night she was buried we both watched the sunset, paying an unspoken homage to Elliot. Just as it got dark, he gripped my hand, and we both said goodbye to the ghosts that haunted us.
Chapter Fourteen
After her death, Maverick asked me if I would like to be a nurse at his clinic, but I politely declined. I didn’t think it would be possible for me to be there and not think of the sad woman that died trying to better her life.
The guys mostly let me keep to myself. Almost hourly, my tablet rang. I hadn’t spoken to Josiah in a little over a week, and he was getting more and more desperate. It was a side of Josiah I didn't previously know. Usually, I was left pining for him, but this change in dynamic was jarring.
I made myself busy by cleaning the house and preparing their meals. I found new things to do daily, but I rarely left the home except to collect groceries. On the fourth day of my saddened state, I made fried chicken and set the table silently; the guys observed me, and even Huxley looked at me with slightly less disdain.
When we all sat down, Kemp piped up. “Ash, have you given any thought to what job you’d like in the town?” He spoke with uncertainty and looked down at his plate, seemingly afraid to meet my eyes.
I observed them all openly and noticed how unsettled they all seemed, especially Jacob. I felt ashamed that my somber mood was affecting them so intensely.
“I was considering talking to the General Store. I noticed that they had a vacant bakery section. I wouldn’t mind selling baked goods there.”
Cyler perked up at this, excited by my ambitions. “Really? Ah, babe, you’d be great at that!” he boomed while the rest agreed.
“Do you need anything?” Kemp asked thoughtfully.
“I might need to purchase baking supplies from the Galla province,” I said.
“Well, make a list of what it is you need, and I’ll make sure you are given it,” Cyler said happily. I smiled at his enthusiasm. They each started talking over one another and making suggestions about what I should do.
After dinner, Patrick invited me upstairs to play games with them. I was curious to see what they were like in a laid-back atmosphere. Most of the times that I passed them in the hall or the town, they were absorbed in their work and wore severe expressions.
I also felt desperate to avoid the constant ringing of my tablet from Josiah, so I happily agreed to visit with them.
Once I cleaned the kitchen, I made my way upstairs to find each guy sitting on the floor around the short coffee table and cheering on one another. They were playing a dice game I was somewhat familiar with. Josiah and I sometimes played it together late at night when Mistress Stonewell was at events.
I casually stood off in the corner and watched with polite interest. “Get your pretty butt over here,” Jacob hollered. His smooth voice made goosebumps cover my arms and shoulders. I made my way to him, and once I was close enough, he hauled me into his lap. He put his arms around me and snaked his head over my shoulder so that he could watch the game.
I blushed furiously at our close contact and forced myself to regard this as friendly behavior. Jacob's hand rested casually on my thigh. Cyler gave us a curious stare until he started losing, and he quickly remembered that he was, in fact, playing a game.
“I’m happy that you're acting like yourself, again,” Jacob whispered with a blush.
“I’m happy you’re happy,” I replied with a shrug which caused him to turn his head to observe me curiously.
“Ay! Guys!” Jacob bellowed, causing me to cover my ears. “I think we should teach Ash here how to play the game.”
I looked around the room and saw that almost all of them ignored his request. They were too absorbed in what was currently happening on the table in front of them. Jacob snaked his arm around me to grab the remote that sat on the armrest. With a click of the button, the room went black, and the room suddenly erupted in swears and groans.
“I think we should let Ashleigh play,” Jacob yelled over their harsh cuss words and displeasure. Jacob then turned back on the lights, illuminating each of their faces, and I giggled at their different looks of disapproval.
Maverick looked at me with a tight grin; it seemed that he, too, still struggled. “Why not?” He shrugged. “Come here; I’ll show you how to play.”