Episode 13

Phee did not hear any stirrings from Miss Eugenia’s room, so she thought it would be a good time to return the journal. She had just laid it upon the small table next to her auntie’s favorite chair when Miss Eugenia sat up in bed.

“You have had my journal for a while now. Tell me, how far did you read?”

“Oh! Aunt Eugenia, I did not know you were awake!”

It was no use to fib about reading, as the old lady could always tell. But Phee hoped her aunt would not inquire.

“Dearest Ophelia, I understand curiosity. And I am deeply flattered my book holds your attention. But as you know, I never intended for anyone to read it. Once you discovered it, though, I thought it would be best to read it together. So, have you gotten to the spot you read out of context? That one paragraph? The one which surprised you that I could write such a thing?”

Phee let out her breath in one deep exhale. It seemed Aunt Eugenia was not as disturbed as she feared. She rubbed her neck and studied the floor. Her response was so low, the elder lady had difficulty understanding.

“Ophelia, speak up. While disappointed, I realize it was bound to happen some time.” Miss Eugenia cocked her head and put her index finger to her lips a brief moment before continuing.

“You know, I have many times thought I would burn it, but I never could. And now I believe it was providential that you found it before I am dead and buried. It even is a blessing.”

Phee looked up, mouth open and inch or two.

“You have never been as attentive to your old auntie as you have been when reading this book. Our time together has brought me more joy than whatever discomfort I might have with you being an intrigued reader. I ask, however, that in the future you remain in this room while reading, whether or not it aloud to me.”

Such a request seemed odd to Phee, but it was an improvement upon past requests.

“I must have your promise, Ophelia. Otherwise, I shall, in fact, burn it.”

Phee’s eyes opened wide and she made a strangled noise before quickly thereafter responding.

“Auntie, please never entertain the idea of burning it! I am so very grateful you have not done so, and if I must read it here in your room, I shall.”

Miss Eugenia squinted one eye at Phee but then lay back upon her pillows.

“Ophelia, you may begin again now if you wish. And you may as well start where you finished, rather than returning to something you have already read.”

Phee did not take long to pause and bask in relief, so she picked up the book and began precisely where she left off.

That night, I again joined Mr. McQueen for supper. They prepare the meals here to fortify during the day, but not too substantial in the evening to ensure a good night’s rest. The inhabitants arise at or before dawn.

The children, I have learned, always take their meals in their nursery. Mealtime is an opportunity for the adults to be uninterrupted. Such luxury to have it be so, I thought.

The meal began in silence, but I could not stay quiet for long.

“Mr. McQueen, if I may ask—and please tell me if my questions are unwanted—is Mrs. McQueen so very ill her days are narrowly numbered?”

He stopped mid-fork, arose, and left the room.

I felt wretched. Oh, how could I have been so unfeeling?

Having lost my appetite, I was leaving the room when Mr. McQueen reappeared. I could see he had just wiped his eyes of tears but was now better composed.

“I must apologize, Miss Jones. You have a reason to know more, as you kindly availed yourself with no notice. But you are witnessing what I cannotLet us continue outside, unless you wish to finish your meal?”

I took his arm and shook my head no.

Once beyond the front door, I apologized for speaking so brashly. I should have realized for myself that Mrs. McQueen’s condition was not promising.

“But is there some hope?” I asked.

“The healers believe so,” he said. “They chant over her, give her herbs, have her walk. She is not strong enough to go beyond her room, and I find no improvement.”

I pondered a moment.

“Is it possible for you to carry her outdoors for a while? Give her a change of scenery and a breath of fresh air?” I added, “Oh, please forgive me. I am used to speaking forthrightly and am often told I am improper.”

Mr. McQueen smiled, but only slightly. Not enough for the dimples to dance.

“I could try that.”

He thought a moment, then excused himself, he said, to see if she was awake and could enjoy the evening air.

The sun sank below the horizon. The crimson of a partly cloudy evening sky gave way to a faint blue as it cleared and grew darker. By the time Mr. and Mrs. McQueen arrived, night had fallen. He effortlessly carried her in his arms, because she was frail and not the robust woman I remember.

A servant brought out three chairs, more comfortable than the ones already present.

I watched as he tenderly held her. She was wrapped in a blanket even though the evening air was still warm. He sat with her in his lap, her head on his shoulder.

“I am so happy you could come outside,” I said.  I could not tell in the dim light whether Zora reacted one way or another. Or even if she heard me. I felt I was intruding.

“I shall take my leave. I bid the both of you good evening.”

Mr. McQueen nodded, but his attention was on his wife. He lovingly moved her hair away from her face and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

I went inside to my room, wondering. And, praying.