Chapter 33 - One Last Spring

Gwen hauled the wooden box into the front room and placed it on the floor in front of the sofa.

“How do I open it?” she asked.

“Pass me the poker,” Lewis said. “It’s probably the best we can do in here.”

Gwen handed him the poker, and after a few failed attempts, he manage to pop off the lid.

“I hate this,” he said with a groan. “I’m as weak as a two-year-old. I hope nobody but you ever knows how long it took me to open this box.”

Gwen handed him a damp towel. “Thank you for doing it,” she said. “I’m sure it would have taken me longer.”

Lewis shook his head and used the towel to wipe the sweat beading up on his forehead while Gwen, with mounting apprehension, stared down at the layer of straw at the top of the box.

“I’m scared,” she finally said. “I don’t know how I’m going to react when I see what’s inside.”

Lewis leaned forward and put his hand on her cheek, gently turning her head so she was facing him. “It doesn’t matter how you react,” he said softly. “It’s only you and me. I may be a twelve-and-a-half stone weakling at the moment, but I still have a shoulder you can cry on. If you need quiet, I can do that. If you need someone to talk you through it, I probably have more Robert tales than you do. And if you end up angry, you can throw anything you want, so long as it’s not at me.”

Gwen placed her hand over his and closed her eyes for a few moments.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered.

He lowered his hand, stifling a cough as he moved. Gwen handed him a cup of water and waited until he’d drunk a little before turning her attention back to the box. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she grasped a handful of straw and pulled.

The first thing she saw was a book. She picked it up and turned it over. “Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson,” she said in English, lifting it so Lewis could see. “Have you ever heard of it before?”

He shook his head. “It looks new. Perhaps Robert bought it in Liverpool to read on the ship. He probably couldn’t find any Welsh books there.”

Gwen flipped through the pages. “It’s dog-eared,” she said. “He must have liked it.”

She put the book on the floor and reached for a large object wrapped in a multicolored cotton cloth. Setting it on her knee, she gently unwrapped the fabric. “Oh.” She gasped. “It’s an elephant!”

The beautifully carved elephant stood about a foot tall and was polished to a shine. She handed it to Lewis.

“I think it’s made of ebony,” he said, turning it slowly so he could view it from all sides. “With ivory tusks.”

He set it carefully on the table, and Gwen reached into the box again. This time she pulled out Robert’s bible. She set it beside the other book before returning to the box and withdrawing two bundles of letters, each tied together with string. A quick glance at the fatter bundle revealed that Robert had kept all the letters she’d ever written to him. The second, smaller bundle contained a few letters from Aunty Jane and several from Lewis. Gwen stared at them in stunned disbelief.

“You wrote to Robert?”

“Not as often as I should have,” he said.

Gwen’s eyes held his. “You wrote to Robert, but you never wrote to me?” Her indignation was rising at an alarming rate. “All that time that I was in Llanfyllin, and then when you were in Pen-y-Bont Fawr, I didn’t get any letters. The few times I managed to persuade myself that you hadn’t completely forgotten me I told myself it was because you never wrote letters to anyone.”

“I did write to you once,” Lewis said.

“Once!” Gwen leaped to her feet and marched over to the fireplace. “Do you have any idea how much I longed for a letter from you? How hurt I was when you never replied to mine? How hard it was to be so quickly forgotten?”

Beneath all the red dots, Lewis’s face was ashen. “Gwennie, you don’t understand,” he said.

“Don’t understand?” Gwen clenched her fist. “What? That you were too busy with Mabel, or that you were glad of some time off from watching out for me?”

“No!” Lewis threw the blanket aside and pushed himself off the sofa and onto his feet. He staggered, his weakened legs barely holding him up.

Gwen took an instinctive step toward him, then stopped herself. “Sit down, Lewis,” she said.

He ignored her. In four shaky steps, he reached the end of the mantelpiece, and using that as a handhold, he kept moving until he was within arms’ length of her. She wanted to back up, to keep a safe distance between them, but she couldn’t bring herself to do something that would entice him to keep moving, not when his legs were so close to giving way already.

“Lewis, if you collapse, I may not be able to lift you,” she warned.

“Then I’ll lie there until Rhys comes,” he said, turning his head to cough. “I don’t care. All that matters is that I’ll have explained myself to you.” He coughed again, this time for longer, and when he finished, he rested his head against the mantel to catch his breath.

Gwen couldn’t stand it anymore. She took his right arm and put it over her shoulder and wrapped her left arm around his waist. “Come on,” she said.

Without a word, he let her guide him back to the sofa. Once there, his knees folded, and he dropped onto the cushions.

“Please, Gwennie.” He gasped as he lay down. “You have to let me explain.”

Gwen pulled the sheet over him and felt his forehead. His temperature was climbing. Her fears rose with it. “I never should have let you get up,” she said brokenly. “I’m sorry, Lewis.”

“You’re sorry?” he cried. “I’m the one who needs to make things right between us.”

His coughing returned, and then because he couldn’t fight his total fatigue anymore, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

Gwen placed a damp towel across his forehead. “Try to rest,” she said, but she needn’t have bothered; he was already asleep.

Gwen lowered herself to the floor beside the open box and slid the piles of letters out of the way. Reaching inside, she pulled out the last items: Robert’s Sunday-best boots, trousers, his jacket, and the hat he’d worn when he’d come to see her at school in Llanfyllin. She picked up the soft hat and pressed it to her face. Suddenly it was all too much—Robert’s death, Lewis’s illness, the letters. Pulling her knees up, Gwen wrapped her arms around them, lowered her head, and began to sob.

“Gwen, bach, whatever is the matter?”

Gwen wasn’t sure how long she’d been crying when Mair called out to her from the hall, but she recognized the alarm in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morgan,” she said, wiping her eyes with her hands as she came to her feet. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Is it Lewis?” Mair asked.

Gwen wished she could say, “Yes, my heart is breaking over your son,” but instead she shook her head. “His fever’s gone up, but he’s asleep at the moment.” Then, to try to explain her tears, she pointed to the small crate and the various items scattered around it. “Ed the Post dropped off a box from Robert’s captain today. It was full of Robert’s things. Seeing his bible and his clothes . . . I think it finally hit me that he’s really gone.”

“Oh, cariad,” Mair said, extending her arms from the doorway.

Gwen started across the room but stopped just before she reached Mair. More than anything, she wanted to fall into the woman’s arms for a much-needed hug, but with the quarantine hanging over them, she knew she had to hold back.

Mair must have realized it too. With tenderness in her eyes, she slowly dropped her arms. “Now, you listen to me,” Mair said. “Lewis is all right for a few minutes, so you take a little time for yourself. I’m going to bring you something to eat. After that, if you put everything back in the box and put the lid on, I’ll have Owen or Rowland drop it off at your house later. That way you won’t have to look at those reminders again until you’re ready. And the moment Rhys gets here, I want you going home to bed. You’re absolutely worn out.” She handed Gwen her handkerchief. “Now then, mop up, and I’ll go make a cup of tea.”

“Thank you,” Gwen said, her voice breaking on the words.

“Thank you, bach. I don’t know how we’d manage without you.”

Gwen boxed up all of Robert’s things except Treasure Island, which she left out, thinking Lewis might like to look at it, then she dragged the crate into the hall. It was heavy enough that she was glad she wouldn’t have to carry it any farther. Despite the noise she made moving everything, Lewis didn’t wake up. He still felt uncomfortably warm to her touch, and when Rhys arrived a little while later, he promised to keep up the wet-towel treatment throughout the night.

As she walked home, she took a moment to soak in the beauty of the warm summer evening, to listen to the birdsong and children’s voices, to smell the flowers in the gardens and the faint aroma of supper coming through the open windows of the homes she passed. Roses spilled riotously over the stone wall outside Miss Ellis’s old home. The bright colors and sweet perfume were a gentle reminder that many of her neighbors were also experiencing loss and its accompanying sorrow. The dead heads and encroaching dandelions in Miss Ellis’s garden told the tale. She was gone, forced by the coming of the dam to take a teaching position elsewhere and to leave her home and beloved prize-winning roses behind.

Gwen had almost crossed Pont Cedig when she heard someone call her name. Too weary to maintain a conversation, Gwen’s heart sank when she turned to see Mabel hurrying toward her. A young man was at her side, half running to keep up with her.

“Gwen, I’m so glad I caught you,” Mabel said, her breath coming out in little gasps. “How is Lewis?”

“I’m afraid he’s quite poorly,” Gwen said.

“As soon as I heard about the measles in Pen-y-Bont Fawr, I just knew he’d catch them,” she said. “And I suppose he’s covered in red spots.”

Gwen looked at her quizzically. “Of course.”

“Oh dear,” Mabel said. “How can you stand to see him like that?”

Gwen knew that in her current state she didn’t have the patience for inane questions. She pasted a smile on her face and turned to the young man at Mabel’s side. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said.

“Oh, how silly of me,” Mabel said. “Hefin, this is Gwen Humphreys. Gwen, this is Hefin Roberts from Llanfyllin. His mother and mine were good friends at school.” She gave him an overly sweet smile, and Hefin beamed, giving the appearance of being quite besotted. “Hefin brought his mother to Llanwddyn for a visit a couple of months ago and has been visiting quite regularly ever since.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Hefin,” Gwen said, forcing herself to be polite. “I’m sorry I can’t stay to talk. My aunt is expecting me right away.”

Mabel gave a little pout and tucked her arm under Hefin’s. “Well, that’s too bad,” she said. “Next time, then.”

“Yes,” Gwen said. “Next time.”

She gave them a quick wave and escaped as fast as her tired limbs would allow. If Lewis hadn’t pulled all his hair out or had his brain turn to mush after spending so much time with Mabel, maybe they were meant to be together. Then again, perhaps he’d have to fight Hefin for her now. Either way, she didn’t need to be involved.