Chapter 30 - One Last Spring

They were on their way to the railway station by seven o’clock the next morning. Mrs. Henley and Cecilia had still not arisen, so Gwen asked Thomas for some paper and left notes of explanation and thanks for both of them. She guessed Mrs. Henley would breathe a big sigh of relief at Gwen’s departure, but she hoped Cecilia might be sorry. Gwen thought that given more time together, they would have become friends.

Thomas was extremely quiet. She could sense his disappointment but was very grateful that he’d accepted her wishes, even though he was still trying to come to terms with how they impacted his future.

The journey was long, but apart from changing trains in Chester and Oswestry, it was uneventful. Gwen felt her heart lighten as the passing scenery changed from rows and rows of buildings to rolling green hills, and when the train finally pulled into Llanfyllin, she embraced the feeling of homecoming, even though she still had twelve miles to go.

The horse and cart they’d used two days before was still at the stable, so it didn’t take long to hitch up. Dusk was falling, and though the summer evening was warm, Thomas hurried the horse along, hoping to minimize the time they would have to travel in darkness. Most of the time, the silence between them was the comfortable kind usually had among good friends, but occasionally Thomas’s expression would become troubled, and Gwen would ask about his work or his friends or his plans when he returned to Liverpool, anything to take his mind off the fact that he was taking her home to stay.

Despite her best efforts, Gwen couldn’t completely prevent the discomfort that grew between them as the cart rolled through Llanwddyn and came to a halt outside Aunty Jane’s house.

“Well, this is it,” Thomas said as the reins fell slack in his hands.

“Yes,” Gwen said. She paused, struggling to know what else to say. “Thank you for bringing me home, Thomas.”

Without a word, Thomas climbed down and walked around the cart. He reached up, put his hands around her waist, and lowered her to the ground.

“I’ll miss you, Gwen,” he said, his hands still on her waist.

Even in the dark, she could see the sorrow in his eyes. “I’ll miss you too,” she said. “I hope you’ll write and tell me how you are every once in a while.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Take care of yourself,” he whispered before taking a step back.

She watched as he reached into the back of the cart to retrieve her bag.

“Thomas,” she said.

He turned to look at her. “Yes?”

She gave him a sad smile. “Edith would be a wonderful hostess.”

“Edith?” he said with a puckered brow.

“Yes. She’s lovely.”

It was as if she could see the cogs turning in Thomas’s mind, and she knew the moment he understood. He tilted his head, his mouth quirking into half a smile. “She is nice, isn’t she?”

This time Gwen’s smile was genuine. “Good-bye, Thomas.”

He climbed back up onto the cart. “Good-bye, Gwen.”

With a snap of the reins, the horse moved forward. Gwen stood and watched until Thomas crossed Pont Cedig, then she picked up the bag at her feet. She was opening the gate that led to the back door when she heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind her. Startled, she swung around. On the other side of the road, someone was getting closer. Her hand on the gate tensed, and she strained to see through the dark.

“Evening, Gwen,” Rowland greeted her, the fishing rod in his hand casting a long, thin shadow across the road.

Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Good evening, Rowland,” she said. “Have you been out fishing this late?”

“It was still light when I was fishing, but the walk home took a long time.” He lifted a dark bundle in his other hand. “I caught eight big ones though,” he added proudly.

“Your mam will be pleased,” she said, smiling into the darkness.

“As long as she’s not too cross about me getting back so late,” he said.

Gwen laughed quietly. “You’d best be on your way, then.”

“Yes,” he said, already picking up his pace. “Bye, Gwen.”

“Good-bye,” she replied.

The next morning, Gwen had just started to explain her unexpected presence in the kitchen to her perplexed aunt when she was interrupted by a loud rap on the front door.

“Good gracious,” Aunty Jane said. “Whoever could that be so early in the day?”

Sensing urgency behind the knock, Gwen hurried down the hall to answer it. When she pulled open the door, Mair was standing on the front step, and one quick glance told Gwen something was terribly wrong. Mair was panting hard, as though she’d run all the way from her house to theirs. Her hair was pulling out of the braid she must have slept in, and the moment she caught sight of Gwen in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Gwen, I’m so glad you’re back! This morning when Rowland said he’d seen you, I wasn’t sure I could believe it, but I prayed I’d find you home.”

“Mrs. Morgan!” Gwen stepped toward her. “Whatever’s the matter?”

“It’s Lewis,” she said.

Gwen reached for the doorframe. No! Please, God, not Lewis. Not when she’d only just discovered the depth of her feelings for him. “Is it the measles?” Gwen had to know.

“Yes,” Mair said, her voice breaking on the word.

“Come in, Mair.” Aunty Jane had joined Gwen at the door and took over for her. “You look like you need to sit down.”

“Is he . . . is he . . . ?” Gwen couldn’t make the words come.

Aunty Jane gave her a stern look. “Let’s go into the kitchen,” she said, taking Mair by the arm and leading the way.

No one said another word until they were seated at the table. Gwen was feeling as shaken as Mair looked and was thankful when her aunt finally spoke again.

“Now what’s this about Lewis?” Aunty Jane said.

Mair took a shuddering breath. “Dr. Edwards lifted Pen-y-Bont Fawr’s quarantine yesterday evening,” she said. “No one in the village had come down with the measles for two weeks, and he thought it was safe. Lewis had received our letter about Robert’s passing, and he was beside himself to get back to Llanwddyn, so the moment the doctor gave the all clear, he started for home.

“He’d been walking for almost two hours when the sore throat started, and half an hour after that, his temperature was so high he was having difficulty putting one foot in front of the other. He didn’t have the endurance to turn back, so he kept walking. It took him an hour longer than usual, but he arrived in Llanwddyn in the early hours of the morning.

“As feverish as he was, he knew he couldn’t risk coming in contact with anyone else, so he went straight to our front room because he knows we hardly ever use it.”

She paused, trying to compose herself. “When Owen got up this morning, he saw that the front room door was ajar and went to close it, and that’s when he spotted Lewis lying on the sofa, shivering like a wet dog.

“Owen went to go in to him, but Lewis shouted at him to go back. He’s still coherent enough to tell his dad what happened and to make sure none of us go past the doorway.” Tears were now streaming down Mair’s face. “He keeps saying that no one else must become ill because of him, but he’s in that cold room by himself, with no blankets or food or water.”

Lewis wasn’t dead. Gwen’s relief was so overwhelming she wanted to weep along with Mair. If he was still alive, there was still hope.

“But how did he come down with the measles if it’s been two weeks since anyone in Pen-y-Bont Fawr’s been ill?” Aunty Jane asked.

“Owen asked him that,” Mair said. “Lewis said he repaired a wheel on one of the gypsies’ caravans a week ago. The gypsy children followed him around as he worked, and he’s guessing their parents wanted to move out of Pen-y-Bont Fawr so badly they didn’t let on that they still had illness among them. Because of the quarantine, they’d already stayed much longer than usual.”

Aunty Jane muttered something unintelligible under her breath, put her hands on the table, and pushed herself upright.

“We’ll decide what’s to be done over a cup of tea,” she said, reaching for the kettle. “I think we could all use one.”

“There’s nothing to decide,” Gwen said, coming to her feet too. “I’m going to take care of Lewis.” Her aunt’s hand froze over the teapot, but Gwen didn’t even look at her. “That’s why you came, isn’t it, Mrs. Morgan?”

“Am I asking too much of you, Gwen?” she said brokenly. “You were the only person I could think of that Lewis might let into the room because he knows you’ve already had the measles. I saw how well you cared for your aunt when she was so poorly and . . . and I know you could nurse him back to health.”

“I’ll come right away,” Gwen said, more grateful than she could express that she could do something tangible to help. She hurried over to the coatrack to retrieve her shawl.

Mair stood and wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Thank you, bach,” she said softly.

“Gwen, this is too much for you to do alone.” Aunty Jane’s voice was firm. “Ill or not, you cannot spend the nights with Lewis unaccompanied. We must think hard. Who else in Llanwddyn has already had the measles?”

Gwen shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know. Did anyone say anything about having had the measles when Robert and I arrived here after Mam and Dad died?”

Her aunt frowned, trying to remember. “Let me talk to Bronwen,” she said. “If anyone around here knows, it will be her.” She turned to Mair. “Your responsibility will be to make sure that only people who’ve already had the measles go anywhere near your front room. For now, Gwen will make sure Lewis is cared for, and even if we have to send for help from Pen-y-Bont Fawr, I’ll find someone to stay with him at night.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you both,” Mair said.

Aunty Jane gave her an incredulous look. “Mair Morgan, we’ve been in your debt for months. If it weren’t for you and your husband, I probably wouldn’t be standing here today.”

Gwen reached for Mair’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Aunty Jane’s right,” she said. “Take me to Lewis.”