Chapter 25 - One Last Spring

There had been no letter from Robert, and since school had ended for the summer holidays, there’d been only one letter from Rosamond and none from Alice. No one in the village had received anything from anyone in Pen-y-Bont Fawr, and even though it had been almost a month since the measles outbreak had begun, there was no sign of the quarantine being lifted. Occasionally Ed the Post brought secondhand news through his contact with Dr. Edwards in Llanfyllin, and from what they could tell, at least ten more cases of the measles had been confirmed.

Even though neither the Williamses nor the Morgans had heard anything from their family members, everyone was going on the premise that their loved ones were still free of the highly contagious disease. Gwen tried really hard to stay positive. The thought that her final interaction with Lewis might be the angry words they’d shared outside the chapel was too awful to bear, so she had to at least pretend all was well.

She tried to refocus her energy on drawing but rarely made it to the dam site more than once or twice a week. She did see Thomas more often than that though. He still accompanied Aunty Jane and her to chapel meetings, and if he hadn’t seen her at the dam for a few days, he would seek her out at home in the evenings, and they would take a walk. The long summer evenings with their gentle warmth did a great deal to help lift her spirits, but the dark of night was still difficult.

Despite the unsettling feeling that something was not right, nothing could have prepared Gwen for the letter Ed the Post handed her the next Tuesday morning.

“Looks like a foreign stamp to me,” he said with a grin.

Aunty Jane immediately stopped what she was doing behind the counter and moved closer. “Is it from Robert?” she asked.

Gwen turned the envelope over. The stamp did look as though it had come from India, but she didn’t recognize the handwriting. The sloped letters were even and carefully formed, a far cry from Robert’s scrawl.

“I don’t think so,” Gwen said, her heart starting to pound. Who else would have written to her from India?

“See who it’s from, then,” Ed the Post said.

Aunty Jane nodded her agreement, and with shaking hands, Gwen slid her finger under the top of the envelope and tore it open. There was one sheet of cream-colored paper inside. Carefully she unfolded it and glanced at the signature at the bottom.

“It’s from Captain Tecwyn Owen,” she said.

“Isn’t that the name of Robert’s captain?” Aunty Jane asked.

“Yes,” Gwen replied.

Aunty Jane and Ed the Post exchanged a worried look, and like wisps of smoke, fear began to permeate the room. Gwen’s attention went back to the letter, and she started to silently read.

Dear Miss Humphreys,

It is with deepest regret that I write to inform you of the passing of your brother, Robert Humphreys . . .

From far away, Gwen heard a plaintive moan, but she didn’t realize the sound had come from her own mouth until she became aware of Ed the Post gently lowering her into a chair.

“Deep breaths now, bach,” he said. “Deep breaths.”

“The letter,” she gasped.

“I have it, Gwen.” Aunty Jane’s face was pale. “You dropped it when you fainted.”

“Read it,” Gwen said. “Read it out loud to me.”

Aunty Jane hesitated.

“Please,” Gwen begged. “I have to know what happened.”

Slowly her aunt lifted the letter and cleared her throat.

Dear Miss Humphreys,

It is with deepest regret that I write to inform you of the passing of your brother, Robert Humphreys, on 27 March 1886.

Robert suffered an acute appendicitis on board the SS Talookdar while the ship was becalmed off the coast of South Africa. Notwithstanding the significant efforts of the ship’s physician, the infection took his life within thirty-eight hours of its onset, and I hope that despite this tragic loss, you will draw comfort from knowing he did not suffer long.

Although Robert had been with the SS Talookdar for only one year, he had earned the respect of the entire crew. He was well liked and known for being honest, hardworking, and cheerful; he will be sorely missed by both his crewmates and his captain.

According to his wishes, Robert was given an honorable burial at sea, and his personal effects will be shipped to you as soon as the SS Talookdar makes port in Liverpool.

On behalf of all those on board the SS Talookdar, I send our heartfelt condolences.

Sincerely,

Captain Tecwyn Owen

As Aunty Jane finished the letter, Gwen lowered her face into her hands and started to cry. Robert was gone. He had been for almost five months, and she’d not known. Her brother was never coming home again. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs shook her small frame and would not stop. She was vaguely aware of her aunt’s and Ed the Post’s voices, of someone leaving, and, a short while later, of someone arriving. Then somebody put a gentle hand on her back and knelt down beside her chair.

“Gwen, I’ve come to take you home.”

Over and over again, the hand softly rubbed back and forth until at last the rhythmic motion began to calm the storm inside. With a shuddering breath, Gwen slowly raised her head. Aunty Jane, appearing more worried than Gwen had ever seen her, sat at the counter behind a forgotten pile of unsorted letters. Ed the Post hovered near the door, looking as though he would rather be anywhere but inside the post office, and beside Gwen’s chair, Mair rose to her feet and placed a shawl over Gwen’s shoulders.

“Come with me, bach.” Mair reached down and took Gwen’s hands in hers. “We’re going to go home. Ed the Post will stay here long enough to help your aunt sort today’s letters, then they’ll close the post office early, and your aunt will come home to be with you.”

Numbly Gwen came to her feet.

“That’s it.” Mair released her hands and placed a protective arm around her. “You’ve had a bad shock, but you’ll be all right.”

Very slowly Mair started guiding Gwen toward the door. Without a word, Gwen matched her pace.

“Thank you, Mair.” Aunty Jane’s voice was strained.

“I’m very glad you sent Ed for me,” Mair said. “And don’t you worry. I’ll have her settled in bed in no time.” She paused. “Mind you get home as soon as you can, Jane. This has been a shock for you too.”

“Yes,” Aunty Jane said heavily. “Yes, it has.”

“We’ll have these letters taken care of in no time,” Ed the Post said, sounding as though he’d be glad to be back doing what he knew.

He opened the post office door for the two women, and Gwen blinked as the bright light of morning stung her swollen eyes.

Mair gave her a comforting squeeze. “Let’s get you home, bach.”

Over the next few days, the stream of callers never stopped. Most of them came and went in a blur. The only ones Gwen remembered with any clarity were Ioan Llanwddyn, whose lined face had crumpled as he’d told Gwen how much he’d appreciated Robert’s kindness; Harry Weston, who’d entered the sitting room, nervously wringing his cap in his hands, to offer the condolences of all the men from his team at the dam; John Ellis, the minister, who’d discussed holding a memorial service for Robert; and Owen and Mair, who’d told her what she’d most needed to hear—that they’d written to tell Lewis. She didn’t know how long it would be before the letter reached him, but she was grateful it had been sent.

Thomas had been a rock of support the entire time. He’d arrived at the house as soon as he’d heard the news and had returned often. He’d stayed with her when she’d needed someone to talk to and had left her alone when she’d needed quiet. Even though he’d never known Robert, he listened attentively when she recounted stories about him, and he let her cry on his shoulder when the memories became too painful.

Just as she had after Aunty Jane’s stroke, Mair had been slipping into the house each day to drop off something small for the two women to eat for supper. Gwen had wanted to tell her not to bother, that eating was the last thing she wanted to do, but she could not bring herself to refuse the woman’s kindness. She remembered that Mair had turned to baking to help her overcome her worry for Lewis, and she wondered if perhaps this was the way she was coping with her own grief over the loss of her son’s best friend.

Aunty Jane said little. They coexisted in the house, politely helping one another with the few chores that had to be done each day, but they did not share their feelings with one another. Gwen knew her aunt was grieving; she could see it in her drawn expression and emotionless eyes. She wished they were better able to reach out to each other, to buoy each other up, but it had never been in Aunty Jane’s nature to open her heart to others, and in Robert’s death, she was making no exceptions. Aunty Jane would grieve in private and expected Gwen to do the same.

Her aunt’s stoicism continued through the memorial service held on Saturday. Under the direction of John Ellis, the meeting included Robert’s favorite hymns, a scripture reading, and a short sermon in which the minister included a few anecdotes from Robert’s life. Gwen sat between Aunty Jane and Thomas on the front pew. She wished she could emulate their somber dignity throughout the meeting, but her heart was too fragile. As she listened to the congregation sing the closing hymn, her tears overflowed.

When the service was over, Thomas helped Aunty Jane out of the chapel, and Gwen followed. With no burial to follow, they stood outside, greeting the other mourners as they exited. Most people gave them a solemn handshake and briefly expressed their sympathy. Mabel gave Gwen a quick hug but, for once, seemed at a loss for words, and Rowland stood in front of her as though gathering his courage for a few moments before pulling his hand out of his pocket and showing her a shiny brown conker threaded on a black shoelace.

“Robert gave me his prize conker when he left,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “He told me to use it to beat Lewis.” He sniffed and put on a brave smile. “I did too. Smashed Lewis’s conker to smithereens.”

Gwen managed a returning smile. “I think that would have made him very happy,” she said.

Silently Rowland nodded, slipped the conker into his pocket, and moved back. Mair took his place. She wrapped her arms around Gwen and held her tightly. “You know Lewis would have wanted to be here,” she whispered.

“Yes.” The single word caught in Gwen’s throat. Lewis was the one person who would have completely understood and shared her heartbreak. “I’ve missed him so much.”

Mair’s grip tightened. “I have too, bach, and I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he can.”

“I know.” Gwen swallowed hard. “Have you heard anything new from Pen-y-Bont Fawr?”

“Ed the Post said that Dr. Edwards has treated twenty-three people. They’re hoping the spreading of the disease is slowing, but they won’t lift the quarantine until they’ve had no new cases for two weeks.”

Gwen nodded. “I hope that won’t be long.”

“Me too.” Mair stepped back, reached for Gwen’s hands, then gave them a squeeze. “And in the meantime, you look after yourself, bach.”

Gwen gave her a weak smile. “I’ll try.”