When Henry Came Home (58 page)

             
"They want you to sign a paper—will you do it, Daddy?"

             
He put out his hand a little, and she pressed a pen into it. The signature was shaky, but legible, and with it he felt a great apprehension, but also great relief—strangely, it was almost as if he had taken her mother from the world, and now, he was giving her back. It was—right.

             
"I love—you, monkey."

             
"I love you, too, Daddy."

              "Good morning!"

             
"Do you always get up this early?" Edward fumbled for a seat at the breakfast table.

             
Daisy's dark eyes sparkled and she pushed a plate across to him. "Most of the time," she said, her voice almost singsong. "I like to watch the sun rise. Daddy and me used to watch together, but he has to sleep now as much as he can, that's what Doc says."

             
"I see. Are you alone out here—you and Ms. Beaumont—all the time?"

             
She shook her head. "Oh, no. Joey comes over four days a week, and Pa comes with him, lots of times. Shh--" She paused a moment, listening, then jumped from her seat and ran out of the kitchen, grabbing her holster on the way. "There they are!" she cried.

             
Edward took a few bites of his breakfast, then shrugged and followed haltingly after her, knocking his shins more than a few times. She was out on the porch, dancing excitedly on bare feet. "Careful," he warned. "You'll get splinters."

             
She laughed. "No I won't!" In a moment or two, the buckboard drew up in front. "Joey!" she cried, hopping down onto the dry, dusty ground. She ran at him as he got down, and she jumped and he caught her in midair and spun her around. "Hi, Pa!" she called out as he set her down. "Guess what, Edward is here!"

             
Pa looked up, squinting in the sun. "So he is, darlin'," he laughed.

             
Joey followed her up onto the porch. "Mornin', Mr. Malley," he said. "This's a nice surprise."

             
Edward grinned. "Good to see you, boy, let me have a look." He put his hands on the boy's shoulders, surprised to find that they were somewhat higher and wider than his own. "Well, for Pete's--" he said, cutting himself off. "Get down a little so I can see you." Obediently, Joey bent and came in closer, flushing and looking away when he saw Edward's amazement. "Why, boy—" he said, "you're a man!"

             
Indeed he was, broad shouldered and sandy-haired and yet a little awkward with his new height, gangly and somewhat thin. He walked with his shoulders stooped a little, as if embarrassed by his goliath proportions. He was a shy giant.

             
Edward grinned kindly, patting the boy's shoulder (for, nevertheless, he still, somehow, was a boy) and understanding his timidity. "You look fine, boy," he assured.

             
Pa joined them, bringing a sack of fresh vegetables up in one arm. He put an arm around his son, eyes sparkling proudly. "This one'll do me right," he said. "Already taller'n me, though I'm not sure if that's him growin' or me gettin' shorter."

             
Edward grasped his hand, and saw dimly that in addition to Pa's snow-white hair, his face was lined heavily, though still burnt brown. "It's been a long time, sir," he said, gladly.

             
"Bah!" Pa threw up a hand. "You may be a partner to my son-in-law, but you're near as grey as me. Don't you dare go callin' me sir." He handed the sack of produce off to his son. "Take the little lady on inside and let two old men have a gab," he commanded.

             
Joey ducked politely and followed his niece inside.

             
When they were gone, Edward let out a groan. "I don't like to say I'm an old man—not yet, anyway," he said.

             
"Well then, don't sir me."

             
He nodded. "You have a deal."

             
"When'd you come in?"

             
"Yesterday. I was traveling this way and thought I'd stop by to—see things." He lowered his voice. "In truth, I didn't expect—"

             
Pa put his arm around him, understanding, and ushered him to the porch swing. "Well," he rumbled, half sighing, "it's been rough going, times. Glad you made it here, before—well."

             
"Is that—?"

             
"He can't hold on much longer, I know." Pa shook his head slowly and gestured towards the wagon. "Me an’ Joey'll stay, now, 'til the end. It's a terrible thing, to be waitin' like this, but I can't chance that little girl bein' here all alone when he slips off."

             
"No," agreed Edward, quiet. After a moment, he stood. "I'm going to—go in."

             
Pa nodded, then turned to look out at things. "Go on."

             
Edward found his way back to the bedroom easier this time and went in quietly. There were soft sounds of difficult, pained breathing, and he was cautious to step carefully as he made his way to the bed. With one extended hand, he found the little chair and pulled it up to sit on.

             
"Daisy...?"

             
"No," Edward said quietly, taking his hand. "It's me—Edward."

             
Henry let out a breath, a sigh, really. "Edward—" he whispered. "I'm—so—tired."

             
Still holding his hand, Edward patted his shoulder and then placed his hand on Henry’s forehead. It was very warm. "I know," he said. "I know you are. It's all right."

             
"Is—it—daytime?"

             
"Yes. About eight in the morning. Do you want me to pull back the drapes?"

             
He flashed a brief, faint smile that was more of a wince. "Yes—please."

             
"All right." Gently, he released the hand, setting it on the bed, and found his way to the crack of light coming in between the curtains. He pulled back one side and light flooded the room, spilling onto the bed. "Is that all right?" he asked.

             
"Yes—yes, fine."

             
Edward went back and sat down. "Henry," he said, taking his hand again, "Henry—I came in to say goodbye. I'm leaving, this morning."

             
"Do—do you--" he stopped, coughing. "Do you have—to?"

             
"Yes. –Yes, I think so." Henry coughed again, and Edward reached for the glass at his elbow. "Do you need some water?"

             
"Yes—pl—" he coughed again, but Edward lifted him gently and tipped the glass, taking it away after a sip or two but keeping him upright until the coughing passed. "Thank you," whispered Henry, when Edward put him down. There was a pause of silence, and then he said, "I'll miss—you, old friend."

             
Edward rested his hand on Henry's brow again. "And I will miss you, " he replied. “More than you know.”

             
"I—I won't—be here—when you come again."

             
Edward held his hand tightly. "I know," he whispered. "I know, old friend." He took a heavy, broken breath. "It has been—an education."

             
Henry smiled. "It—has."

             
Edward patted his hand, squeezed it once more, and let go. "Goodbye," he whispered, knowing now that it would be forever.

             
"Goodbye."

             
He turned, and found the door.

             
"Edward—"

             
He turned back, though there was nothing to be seen. "Yes?"

             
"Will you—send Daisy in?"

             
"I will."

             
In the hall, Edward found his way to Daisy's bedroom, where his small bag sat already packed by the door. He took it and went into the kitchen, where she and Joey were washing vegetables. "Daisy," he said, and found that his voice did not contain the pleasantness he had intended.

             
She turned and hopped down from the little stool. "Yes?"

             
"Will you give me a kiss before I go?"

             
She hurried across the room. "So soon?" she asked.

             
He smiled, wan, and felt something twist in his gut. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

             
Her pixie face fell, but she tugged at the bottom of his jacket and he bent down so that they met, nearly nose to nose. "All right," she said. "I will miss you." She gave him a small peck on the cheek.

             
He returned the same, and then hugged her, on an impulse. "I'll miss you, too, darling," he said. "Now go on in and see your Daddy—he wants you."

             
She nodded, solemnly, and departed.

             
Edward stepped over to Joey, who did not turn from the washbasin. He hesitated, and then put a hand on his shoulder. Joey scrubbed furiously, trying hard to hold in the small sob that came out anyway. "It's hard," said Edward. "I know."

             
Joey dropped the vegetable he was holding and clenched his fists, tight, breathing stiffly. "I'll be all right, Mr. Malley," he managed. He fumbled again for a beet.

             
Edward was silent a moment. "Go on after her," he said finally. "It's not right for a child to be alone with a thing like that."

             
Joey looked at him finally, blinking. "You think—I wouldn't be no bother?"

             
"No. No, not at all."

              Daisy stepped cautiously into her father's bedroom, feeling suddenly all her smallness, which was not something that she usually noticed much. "Daddy?" she whispered, going to his side, and her voice, too, was small. He moved his hand a little, and she bent over and put her head on his chest, tucking her arms around his shoulders on either side. He put his hand on top of her head and closed his eyes, letting out a breath.

             
"Daddy--" she whispered, "Daddy—you have to go now-- don't you."

             
"Yes, monkey." He felt another presence in the room, and looked up to see Joey enter quietly. Their eyes met, and he closed his briefly, in approval. Yes. This was right.

             
Joey moved, and sat down on a chair a little distance from the bed. Waiting.

             
Henry kissed the top of her head, and then her face, when she looked up. "I love you." He said it knowing that he could never say it enough, never say it in a way that would show the full measure. "I love you, Daisy," he said again.

             
She pressed her cheek, warm and full of hot blood, against his, and he could feel the silky hotness of her tears. "I know Daddy, I know. I love you too. Goodbye, Daddy... Goodbye... I love you..."

             
He felt his heart slow and his head suddenly light, felt himself slipping, gently. For a moment his heart beat faster and he knew she was—and then no more.

              Edward held the flask of whiskey between his knees. He couldn’t see it clearly, but he knew the glint of silver well. His hands shook. He found himself painfully short of breath.

             
Then, beneath him, he felt the carriage jerk as the horses faltered into a trot and then a walk. Angrily, he opened the carriage door. He craned his head out towards the driver's seat. "Why are we stopping?" he demanded, without his usual courtesy.

             
"Someone's riding after us, sir—trying to catch up, I think."

             
Without success, Edward strained his eyes back the way they had come. "All right," he snapped, and slammed the door shut again. He shoved the flask under the seat and waited, and soon soft patters of slowing horse hooves sounded outside the carriage. He stuck his head back out, and then fumbled for the latch, stumbling out to the ground.

             
"Darling!" he cried. "What in Pete's name are you doing here?" She began to dismount, and he put his hands around her waist to lift her off.

             
"Are you going to the train station?" she asked.

             
"Why—yes, darling, but—"

             
"Good. I hope you don't mind if I come with you." Without further explanation, she led her horse around to the back of the carriage and tied him up, giving him a lengthy lead. When she came around to the side again, she was toting a small leather suitcase. She climbed inside the carriage and sat down.