Chapter 33

It wasn’t just a cough. By the next day, Algernon was unable to eat or drink anything, and was coughing hard enough to bring up blood. I ran to town for the doctor. Cynthia and Mother stayed by Algernon’s side, trying in vain to get him to sip fluids.

When I returned with the physician, Comfort met us at the door with a strained expression on her face. “You better hurry,” she told the doctor.

The doctor stayed all that day and night, and into the next day. Despite the doctor’s best efforts, Algernon was failing. He had a raging fever that would not break no matter what we tried. Then the hallucinations began. Algernon would talk endlessly to people who weren’t there. Cynthia remained steadfastly by his side the whole time, trying her best to talk to him and make sense of what he was saying.

Finally, the doctor pulled Mother to the side. “Madam, I must be frank. I have seen this illness only a few times before.”

“Has anyone recovered?” Mother asked quietly.

The doctor slowly shook his head. “I am afraid not, madam. I am sorry.”

Mother drew a shaky breath. “How long?”

“One day. No more. This is a fast-acting disease.”

Mother nodded, her chin quivering. “Thank you for telling me,” she looked past the doctor into the room where Cynthia was beside her father, placing cool cloths onto his forehead and listening to him jabber on, asking an unseen blacksmith the prices of horseshoes.

Algernon died the following morning. I had fallen asleep on the sofa outside Algernon’s room and was awakened when I heard Cynthia cry out, “No! No, no! Dad!” her strangled cry echoed throughout the house.

Cynthia burst out of the room, flew past me, and ran out the front door, sobbing. I looked into the room. Mother was there, sitting beside the bed, holding Algernon’s limp hand, tears pouring down her face as she silently wept.

I walked slowly into where Mother sat and began rubbing her back, but she gave no indication she even noticed me. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t move. Comfort bustled in and led me out, shutting the door behind us. “Let them have privacy,” she told me before chivvying me toward the front door.

“Where are we going?”

Comfort marched toward town. “We have to prepare his funeral.”

I didn’t know the first thing about preparing a funeral but Comfort did. I supposed she had learned after Father’s death. She took charge in the same commanding way she had done when Mother and I had fallen to pieces. It seemed that any time a crisis arose, Comfort rose to meet the challenge head on, never faltering, no matter how daunting the task seemed. We visited person after person, arranging for a priest to officiate at the funeral, asking women in town to donate flowers from their gardens, paying the tavern owner to board guests in his inn above the local tavern, and paying for the doctor’s time.

It seemed that the errands went on and on. One person needed to oversee collecting my stepfather’s body and another to carry out the cremation properly, another to go help Mother, and yet another to help with closing all of Algernon’s business accounts and settling debts, which were far greater than I had ever expected. By the end of the day, my feet ached, and I felt utterly exhausted, despite Comfort being the one who had done all the talking and coordinating.

I wearily trudged home beside my sister, who frequently bit her lip and fidgeted with the coin purse in her hand.

“Don’t tell Mother,” began Comfort. “But it took almost everything we had to settle Algernon’s business debts and pay for his funeral.”

A knot twisted in my stomach. We had never had to worry about finances before. “What will we do?”

Comfort set her jaw, determination blazing in her eyes. “We will cross that bridge when it comes. I will figure it out. Mother has enough to worry about right now.”

“You always figure things out,” I said encouragingly. But I saw the worry lines etched deep into Comfort’s face. “What about Cynthia?”

“Let her grieve,” Comfort stated simply. “She will need some time, just like you did. But she will have to help when the money runs out, the same as us.”

She sighed heavily then gave me a small, sad smile. “Don’t worry too much, sis. We have a little left, and I can sell some things to keep us afloat for a few more months. No need to panic yet.”

We arrived home. I saw the men we had spoken with earlier in the day just leaving, carrying a stretcher with Algernon’s body under a length of white linen.

Mother was just inside, sitting beside the fireplace and staring into the fire’s depths, unresponsive as we walked past. Our housekeeper was bustling around making tea and cookies. Cynthia was nowhere in sight. I exchanged one last glance with Comfort before I plodded up the stairs to my bedroom, thinking all the time about what we could do about family’s money struggles.

I didn’t see Cynthia again for several days. I had no idea where she went, but she turned up again just before Algernon’s funeral. Burrs were tangled into her hair, she was covered in dirt and grime, and just as Mother had after Father’s death, it looked like Cynthia had aged years in just a few days.

Comfort and I hadn’t known Algernon well enough to know what his final wishes were, and he had been in no state in his last few days to ask. His funeral was conducted in a similar fashion to Fathers, so Comfort told me. Everyone who had known Algernon gathered around the stream in the town square, and after the priest spoke, we all told of our favorite memories with him. Once each person had finished telling what they remembered, they tossed a flower into the stream and watched as it was carried away.

Cynthia had scrubbed herself clean before the ceremony, but she looked transformed by her sorrow. She could barely speak as she told about her childhood memories with her dad, their travels together, his teaching her to cook, the times he would take her to the Fairy Godmother Tree and tell her that her mother was still watching over her. Everyone murmured words of condolences as they watched the rose she threw in float downstream.

After the funeral was over, we walked slowly back home. The house seemed somehow emptier than it had when it was just me, Comfort, and Mother living here before we knew Algernon. Cynthia was the saddest sight of all, dragging her feet all the way back to the house. She hadn’t had any family members that attended Algernon’s funeral. Cynthia was all he had had. And now Cynthia had no one.

The housekeeper had laid out a lunch for us, but Cynthia didn’t want to eat. She simply retreated back to her room and didn’t emerge for days. I had the housekeeper set food outside her bedroom door, and I would leave different books and activities outside her door. I was sure she wouldn’t have any interest in them, but I wanted to help her to feel better in any small way I could. I imagined this was how Comfort had felt after Father had passed away and she saw Mother and I consumed by our grief.

True to my word, I didn’t mention our family’s dwindling finances to Mother. She constantly sat in front of the fire, day after day, just watching the flames leap and dance about. I worked diligently with the few clients I had to earn a few more coins, which I would then turn over to Comfort. She spent increasing amounts of time poring over budgets and ledgers, calculating and recalculating expenses.

Cynthia slowly began moving about the house again, but very slowly, without the pep she usually did everything with. I hoped that our emerging friendship would blossom, and that I would come to think of her as a close sister, not just a distant stepsister. But she seemed too far away and detached to have any kind of deep conversation with her. I continued to try and do things for her, but was unsure what would be most significant. She didn’t read any of the books I lent her, wasn’t interested in the cross stiches or knitting supplies I left, and avoided her previous love of cooking.

I was at a loss. How was I supposed to help someone who didn’t want to be helped?

The weeks crawled by, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before Comfort told Mother and Cynthia about our dire circumstances. Finally, that day arrived.